


I'll Ask For The Sea

by amidststars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Beanstalk Adventures, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance, runaway princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 162,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidststars/pseuds/amidststars
Summary: Fed up with the future her royal status holds for her, Princess Emma runs away and ends up in the port town of Tortuga. She grows up there, working as a barmaid with her friend Ruby, but a chance encounter with a charming pirate sets into motion events she never could've imagined and reminds her that she can't run from who she is forever.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Kudos: 40





	1. A Proper Lady and A Charming Pirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FF.net on October 22, 2013.

_“She couldn’t help but think there was a little more to life somewhere else. After all, it was a great big world with lots of places to run to.”_

* * *

“Sit up straight, head high, hands resting on your lap. No, don’t grip your hands together; you’re not in an arm wrestling match. Just lightly place one hand over the other – yes, like that. A princess should always look at ease.”

To make a point, Emma slumped back into the chair.

“Emma Swan, what on earth are you doing?” Her mother’s tone was shocked and exasperated.

“This is me at ease, Mom!”

“Well, you slouching like that is not lady-like in the least. Looking at ease and being at ease are two very different things. I can only imagine what the guests would say if they saw you like that; now, sit up!”

“I don’t care what they’d say…”

“Well, I do!” Her mother took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. “We are held to a higher standard, Emma. We have to look and behave like the royals we are.”

“I though you said we’re no different than everyone else in the kingdom.” She hated that she sounded like a petulant child but she was purposely trying to get a rise out of her mother. They were both frustrated; they’d been at this all day. It was only a fortnight until her twelfth birthday and, to celebrate, her parents had planned an extravagant ball and invited, what seemed like, everyone in the kingdom. This would be the first time many of the other royals would meet her which, in turn, meant daily princess lessons for Emma so she could be presented as a proper young lady, the daughter of King Charming and Queen Snow.

She hated it.

“That is true; we are no different than anyone else, no _better_ than anyone else. But that doesn’t change the fact that we are their leaders. They look to us to govern them, rule them, and guide them. We set an example, Emma.”

She’d entertained the thought of running away on more than one occasion. The only problem was that, as much as she hated the idea of her future as a royal – being married off to some prince, having to deal with the issues of the kingdom on a daily basis, never getting to go on any of the adventures she dreamed of – she hated the idea of leaving her parents. Even though they frustrated her, she loved them and hated the thought of disappointing them.

Emma quietly sighed and sat up, crossing her hands delicately on her lap and schooling what she hoped was a pleasant look on her face. She must have been successful as her mother’s face broke out into a smile.

“There now, you look like a perfect young lady!”

But Emma didn’t want to be a perfect young lady – she wanted to be free.

* * *

The noise in the room was cacophonous. The little bar of the inn was small enough as it was; with all of the men crowding the area, shouting and yelling, it made the place seem increasingly claustrophobic. Emma rushed to fill five tankards with ale for the group of men situated at the bar. They were young, probably the lowest of the low out of the men on their ship, but they were confident; each of them was shamelessly trying to flirt with her.

“Honey, you can’t leave me hanging like that. Come on, tell me your name. I told you mine…”

As if that made any difference.

“It’s a madhouse this evening!” A tall, leggy brunette wearing figure-hugging and stare-inducing trousers and a breezy blouse strutted past her carrying a tray full of empty mugs. “Been a while since we’ve had a crowd this big.”

The brunette’s name was Ruby and she was Emma’s most trusted girlfriend.

A twelve year old Emma first showed up in Tortuga, fresh off the face of a merchant trading ship, in the middle of torrential downpour with no plans and no idea where to go. Desperate and alone, she had wandered through the town looking for a place to stay; the citizens of the pirate-filled town were less than trusting and unwilling to house her, despite the fact that she was just a child. That’s when she stumbled upon The Salty Dog Inn.

Ruby and August, her older brother, were the first people she talked to and, luckily enough for her, happened to be the inn owner’s children. With their help, which involved much pleading on the part of Ruby, she had secured not only extended lodging at the inn, but also a job working in the little pub downstairs.

“I know! I’m exhausted and it’s not even late, yet. These guys are just getting started.”

“And there’s still more trying to come in, just in case you didn’t notice.”

Emma swung her eyes to the main door. It conveniently opened at that moment, giving her a glimpse out where she could just make out groups of sailors and pirates huddled amidst the swirling snow. Great… yeah, it was most definitely going to be a long night.

“Hey babe… babe!” Her young would-be lover was calling to her again. “When do you get a break? You can come outside with me; get some fresh air.” Fresh air? This kid was an idiot. It was the middle of winter, not to mention it was snowing outside. Fresh air, her ass.

Emma was now twenty-six. She’d grown up here and now considered the inn, its regular patrons, and the exciting Tortuga more of a home than the shining castle she was born and lived in for twelve years. Of course, that didn’t mean she never missed her old life; it would’ve been easy to remain a princess. Everything handed to you on a silver platter, never wishing for anything, never having to struggle for something you want. Yes, it would have been very easy; but those easy outs were never a part of her dreams for adventure and that’s why she’d left. Well, maybe not the only reason, but most definitely a major part.

“Wow, Emma, he seems like such a winner; you should definitely take him up on his offer for some fresh air.”

She gave Ruby a look, clearly telling her not to encourage the boys, but they’d already heard her. Their little ringleader obviously missed the sarcasm laced through Ruby’s statement.

“Yeah, honey, you should listen to your friend. I can show you a good time, if that’s what you want.”

Oh, for the love of… with the little encouragement he’d received, compliments of Ruby, there was going to be no way he’d leave her alone now. Instead, Emma did the only thing she could do – glare at her friend who was making an already annoying situation insufferable. But in the true fashion of a friend, Ruby just smiled sweetly back at her before loading up her tray with fresh drinks to take out and exiting the bar, leaving her to deal with the boys.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” She whispered on her way out. Emma returned to her work filling drinks and taking orders.

“Come on, blondie – I’ve made many a girl scream; I could do the same for you.”

That was wishful thinking on his part. She’d be surprised if he’d even bedded anyone before, much less become experienced enough to make her scream. Either way, she was tired of his nonsense; she had other things to be doing, other patrons to be serving.

“Listen up, _boy_.” She put as much emphasis on his young age as possible. Nothing took the wind of a pirate’s sails, no pun intended, more than a reference as to how young and inexperienced he was. “You’re young and stupid and obviously plastered. Here’s a drink on me; now go bother someone else.” She shoved the mug at him and turned to another man ready to order.

“What can I get you?”

“Sweetheart, I’m still talking to you.” She ground her teeth in frustration.

“And I am _done_ talking to you.”

“I think you’ll be done when I say you’re done!” His eyes were dark as he reached over the counter in an attempt to grab her; his mistake. She slid out of his reach, grabbed a pitcher of water, and promptly threw it in his face. He spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes. It was a shame he was preoccupied; he didn’t even see the wooden club coming for him. Emma held the club above his head and let gravity pull it downward. There was really no point in putting any effort into it; gravity was more than enough for the solid piece of wood. It hit his head with a solid _thunk_ and the regular patrons laughed uproariously; they knew that sound, some of them from experience.

“Son of a bitch!” His curse was loud and angry. Emma leaned forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. His eyes were watering as he held one hand over the sore spot on his head.

“I’m not going to tell you again, kid – leave me alone.”

Then she shoved him away and turned away from the bar, reaching for her drink and downing it in one long swig.

“Excellent, Emma! It’s been forever since we’ve been able to use the club.” At least Ruby was entertained by the spectacle. “But honestly, you didn’t have to make him cry.”

“Oh, tell me he didn’t!” She laughed intensely when Ruby nodded.

“He pushed right through everyone and left, tears in his eyes the whole way!”

“Poor thing. And he was just a young one, too.”

“You probably broke his heart. Now he’ll never trust another woman again.”

“Don’t worry, Ruby. I’m sure if he ever needs reminding of how wonderful a woman can be, he can always turn to you.” They both laughed again, Ruby picking up her tray.

“You know me – I would never turn away a poor, young soul looking for a romp in the bed. It’s a shame, really; I probably could’ve taught him a few tricks.”

“Ruby, the only you’d do is make his youthful ears burn with your dirty bedroom talk!” Emma had to yell to be heard over the patrons. Ruby threw a foxy grin over her shoulder and Emma couldn’t help but laugh. Throwing the towel onto the bar, she turned to the next man waiting for a drink. “What can I get you?”

His eyes were so very blue.

That was her first thought.

Then she mentally slapped herself for sounding like such an idiot, even if it was just within the confines of her mind. Widening her view past his eyes, she took in the rest of him – dark and tousled hair, startlingly blue eyes, stubble running along a strong jaw, leather-clad attire, sword dangling from his hip.

Pirate.

“Hello, beautiful.”

He flashed a confident smirk her direction and, although she hated to admit it, her breath hitched. He was gorgeous. Was it even appropriate to call a man gorgeous? Attractive? Striking? Good-looking? Handsome? _Ruggedly_ handsome?

“Can I get some rum, milady?”

“Sure thing.” Emma whirled around, spurred into action by the familiarity of an order to fulfill. The mug filled, she turned and slid it to his waiting hands – or hand, rather. Instead of a flesh and blood hand, his left arm ended in a wickedly sharp hook. Well that was interesting…

“You’re working too hard. You should come sit with me; take it easy for a bit.”

Tempting, but no.

“Sorry, I’m swamped. Girl’s gotta make a livin’, you know.” While that was true, she also knew that no one would ever begrudge her for taking a break. But he didn’t know that – or at least she didn’t think he did. Judging by the smug look on his face, he might.

“What’s ten minutes? These scallywags can take care of themselves for a bit.”

“I’m too busy. Really.” Emma set to work on another sailor’s order.

“You hesitated.”

She glanced at him briefly through her lashes as she poured some ale but refused to answer because, damn it, she _had_ hesitated; he just wasn’t supposed to have picked up on it.

“No need to be shy about it, love.” He was leaning over the bar towards her, smirking again. She slid the drink to a tattooed and pierced sailor before turning to the pirate in front of her, arms crossed.

“What’ll it take for you to leave me alone?”

“Just ten minutes over there.” He gestured over his shoulder to an empty spot at a table in the back; the other men sitting at the table must have been saving the spot for him. “Just you and me.”

“Doesn’t look like it’ll be just you and me. Looks like it’ll be you and me and about fifteen of your crew.”

“They won’t bother us, love; won’t even eavesdrop. I’ve taught ‘em better than that.” He winked at her and she smiled, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it.

“Is this guy bothering you?”

Emma should have known August would notice the attention she was receiving and step in; ever since she’d showed up on the doorstep of the inn looking like a drowned rat, he’d taken it upon himself to protect her, stepping into a self-appointed big brother role. She could sense him as he came to stand behind her, obviously trying to intimidate the pirate.

August was roughly five years older than Emma and Ruby but his appearance would fool most people; he looked much older than he was. Unlike her, he had been born and raised in Tortuga which meant he didn’t look very different than the hordes of pirates that came through town – large build, bulging muscles, scruffy beard, tattoos covering most of his visible skin. Between the ruckus caused with the kid and now this one chatting her up, he’d evidently felt the need to step in.

“Unbelievably so, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You can handle me – that’s an invitation.”

Emma was no innocent maiden; growing up in a town like Tortuga meant that there were always drunken fights to break up, hands reaching for her backside to dodge, and cheesy pickup lines from guys trying to get into her pants. For the most part, she tried not to indulge the patrons in their attempts at flattery and flirting but she couldn’t help the small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth so she took a drink in an attempt to hide it.

“Wow… does that kind of stuff really work on women?”

“You tell me, love.”

He was good, she’d give him that.

He lifting his tankard of ale and took a drink, never looking away from her. All of a sudden the room seemed a little too warm, despite the frosty air coming through the doors. He lowered his drink, the smirk returning to his face.

“Emma, there’s a lot of people here – let’s get back to work.”

August was obviously tired of this pirate’s pickup lines and probably worried by her lack of just brushing him off, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the eye contact so she was thankful when his eyes slid up to a point above her head. The spell broken, Emma also turned to glance up to August’s face; if looks could kill, this pirate would be dead. She needed to act quickly. Drunken fights between patrons was one thing; drunken fights between patrons and the inn owner’s son was another.

“I’m going.” Emma touched August’s arm lightly, drawing his attention back to her. “Let it go, it’s no big deal.” And with that, she made her way down to the opposite end of the bar; she could feel the heat of the pirate’s gaze on her back but when she glanced back he wasn’t there anymore.

The night dragged on and Emma managed to stay plenty busy; there must have been a good number of ships come into port today as the inn was packed to the brim. The attractions of Tortuga always meant there were people visiting the town so they never really had a slow night, but the mass of people and activity this evening was beginning to give her a slight headache. Fortunately for Emma, she was behind the bar tonight which meant Ruby got the floor. She spotted her dark-haired and red-lipped friend swat away a hand attempting to grope her with practiced ease, not missing a beat as she served tankards of ale to the group before her.

“What’ll you be havin’?” A new group of men had made their way to the bar.

“Eight tankards of rum.” He paused to peruse her. “And maybe a little of you, sweetheart. How ‘bout you keep me company later? It’s gettin’ chilly out and my bed gets a little cold at times.”

“Not gonna happen, buddy.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and set about filling the mugs.

“Good lord, Emma. I’m not going to have any ass left to grab by the end of tonight if they all keep this up!” Emma spared a glance for her friend as she rushed behind the bar, dumping empty glasses into the wash bin and filling new ones to take back out. “They’re positively lecherous this evening and they’re beginning to go for more than just my ass. You’re lucky to be back here, that’s for sure.”

“True that. I’m getting enough of it with a block of wood separating us; I can’t imagine how bad it is in the middle of them.” Emma could imagine it, she’d been there plenty of times, but she knew Ruby wanted the pity so she indulged her and took pity on her situation.

“It’s getting late, though; they’ll start turning in soon.” Ruby paused, leaning against the bar for a breather. Emma grunted her agreement and handed the rum-filled mugs to the group of guys, ignoring his last attempt to get her into his bed. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you – you have an admirer.”

Emma pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes as if to push away the aching in her head. “Really, in an inn filled with drunken pirates? Who would’ve thought?” She heard Ruby’s soft laugh and smiled in response. The pressure of her hands against her eyes was beginning to cause colorful spots of light to appear in the darkness; she dropped her arms and blinked until her vision returned to normal.

“He’s been staring at you for most of the evening.”

“Most likely trying to stare down my blouse.” Emma turned back to the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Really, though. He’s not nearly as revolting as most of the guys here.”

“Don’t care. Here’s your drink. What about you – what’ll you be havin’?”

“He’s actually very charming…”

“Then why don’t you go after him?”

Her attempts at blowing Ruby off were obviously not working so Emma made an attempt to appeal to her friend’s sexuality. It was common knowledge that Ruby was a little more promiscuous than Emma – well, maybe more than a little. If she was interested in sleeping with someone, all she had to do was turn on the charm; the guys never knew what hit them. Emma had never been able to flaunt her sexuality the same way, despite Ruby’s insistence that she had all the goods. She’d just never been as comfortable vamping it up just for some casual sex.

“I would have but he seems very insistent on you. I was serving their drinks and – I’ll admit – I tried to flirt with him but all he asked about was you. Kept wanting to know your name; I didn’t tell him, though.” Emma sighed in relief; names were too personal a thing to just hand out to every guy that came through the inn. She was glad Ruby understood that. “See, look! He’s still staring at you.”

“I’m not looking.”

“He’s right over there.” She ignored the hand pointing into the distance in front of her face, studiously washing the pile of mugs in the wash bin instead. “Emma…” Ruby was pouting, hands on her hips. “Emma, seriously. Emma, stop ignoring me and just look at him!”

“I don’t need to see him; I’m not interested.”

“You might be if you saw his pretty face.”

“For god’s sake, Rubes, don’t you have drinks to get out or something.” Emma threw the mug she’d been cleaning back into the suds and glared at her friend in mock frustration but Ruby just stared back with a Cheshire-like grin, resolute. It was a silent battle of wills that Emma knew she’d lose; she’d never been able to outlast Ruby. “Ugh, fine! Let’s just get this over with so I can actually get some work done. Where is he?”

Emma didn’t think it was possible but Ruby’s grin grew even wider before she grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and facing her towards the far corner of the bar. Emma had to search for a minute before her eyes met his; it was the same pirate that had done a better job than most at trying to woo her earlier.

A roguishly charming smirk broke out on his face when he realized he had her attention. She tried to fight the grin she couldn’t help and shook her head ever so slightly in exasperation; he was determined. A few hours of drinking with his men had not yet caused him to forget about her. Most men harassed her at the bar before giving up and moving on to easier women; apparently, he was different. He raised his hand and crooked his finger towards her; the message was clear – _come here_. She cocked an eyebrow at him. He winked at her in response.

“He’s a pirate.” The excuse was pathetic; as if being a pirate was the worst thing in the world.

“Oh, come on... like that’s stopped you before. How long has it been since you’ve been laid?” She could hear the smirk in her friend’s voice; Ruby very well knew how long it had been since the last time she’d slept with someone – too damn long. He moved his head slightly, motioning for her to come over.

“Oh, you should go talk to him!” Ruby obviously hadn’t missed his gesture. “I’ll take care of the bar for a while – you go talk to him. And then later you can visit his ship; rock it a bit, you know. Make sure it’s steady.”

“Ruby!” Emma felt her cheeks redden at the insinuation and turned to slap her playfully on the arm.

“Just go! I’m going to be too busy cleaning up tonight to have any fun myself so I have to live vicariously through you. Don’t disappoint me!” And with a shove, Ruby pushed her from behind the bar.

Emma stood there for a moment before wiping her hands on her trousers and making her way to the pirate in the corner. He grinned at her as she approached.

“Hello, beautiful. I saved you a spot.” He shifted over, leaving an empty space between his body and the wall; when she didn’t move, he patted it with his right hand, making fun of her hesitance.

She threw a look over her shoulder to the bar where Ruby stood, still grinning at her, before turning back to the pirate and sitting in the empty space. Immediately, he slid a tankard of what she assumed to be rum in front of her.

“You’ve been running around all evening. You must be thirsty.”

“And from what I’ve heard, you’ve apparently been staring at me all evening. Nothing better to do?” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking a slow drink of the warm ale.

“Oh, there are plenty things to do; I just prefer to stare at a beautiful lady than these ugly scoundrels.” He motioned to his crew members. “So tell me, love – do you have a name?”

She paused for a bit.

“Perhaps.”

There was a coy little smile on her lips; she was flirting with him – damn it, she was _willingly_ and _consciously_ flirting with him. His smug little smirk, the way he spoke to her, his distinct accent. This pirate oozed charm and sex appeal and she couldn’t help but be drawn in by it. Or maybe Ruby was right; maybe it had just been too long since she’d slept with someone and so now she – and by she, she meant her body – was jumping at the chance for release. No… no, it wasn’t just that. It was also him.

“Ah, a mysterious lass. No bother, I like a challenge.” She couldn’t maintain the eye contact, her gaze dropping to her drink.

“So, pirate, where do you hail from?

“I was born in a town just north of here, but I joined a crew as soon as I could walk and have been sailing ever since. I’ve navigated through all of the waters around here; spent more of my life at sea than on land. Although, for the past few years I’ve been traversing… well, I’ve been sailing a most treacherous sea. You wouldn’t know of it, though; not many do.” He added the last bit hastily at the question he probably knew was forming in her mind.

“What an adventure - a pirate drifting from place to place; coming in to ports only for supplies and a drink.”

“And for the ladies, love.”

“Oh yes, of course.” She laughed. “Can’t forget the ladies. They must be helpless to your charms, I’m sure.”

“They can’t resist.”

They were angled more towards each other now, although Emma couldn’t remember ever moving. Their knees were close, almost touching, and his hand rested on the bench mere inches from her leg. She was leaning towards him, now. She shouldn’t want him but she was fighting a losing battle.

“So this fierce pirate that’s sailed many fearsome waters and battled many foes and plundered many ports and probably ravaged many women,” she couldn’t help but snicker at that point, “does he have a name?”

He was grinning at her, dangerously attractive; he opened his mouth to answer – or quip some kind of retort – when he paused. Instead, his eyes lost their focus, his head tilted towards the front door. The table they were seated at was relatively close to the front door so they heard the commotion before many of the other patrons. Yelling, pounding, the clash of metal on metal – something was wrong. But before she could say anything, the front door burst open and the entire bar exploded into action. Startled, she stood up and began looking around the bar for Ruby.

“Get behind the bar.” She didn’t register the words at first, still concerned with trying to find her friend. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, love – get going!”

The pirate was in her face now, almost yelling at her. Emma met his eyes briefly before nodding and climbing over the tables. She hugged the wall, trying to stay away from the action; men throughout the bar were fighting, despite the fact that they weren’t part of the initial brawl from outside. But that’s what happened when someone throws a punch in a bar, she knew that from experience. After scaling the bar and landing safely inside, Emma spotted Ruby crouched below the counter.

“I think we need a bigger club, Ems.” It was supposed to be a joke but the frightened look in her eyes was contradictory. Out of nowhere, a sword sunk into the bar near Emma’s hand and she jumped back, staring into the sea of madness in front of her.

A man grappled with the sword held in his opponent’s hand. He managed to land a solid punch before he was fended off; the sword fell with a spray of blood. A large pirate grabbed the shoulder of his challenger, jabbing his cutlass into his gut and ripping it out again just as quickly. The mortally injured man fell to his knees clutching at his stomach. One of the young boys from earlier stumbled towards her, falling against the counter; his hand clutched a wicked gash across his throat as blood streamed from between his fingers. He emitted a distressed and wet-sounding gurgle that made her stomach twist.

“This isn’t just a random drunken fight… there’s something else going on here. Rubes, these guys are killing each other.”

“What?!” Ruby practically screamed. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of their league.

“Where’s my bow?”

“Um… oh god, where was it… it was… in the corner of the kitchen! Near the trash bin!”

“Come on.” Emma gripped the brunette’s hand and dragged her through the kitchen door, spotting the bow and arrows in the corner. Her father had attempted to teach her archery and swordplay at a young age, but archery was the only thing that it seemed she had a natural aptitude for. As it was her only real mode of self-defense, she always kept her bow and arrows close at hand.

“We can go out the back; try to make it to my dad’s house?”

It was a valid suggestion. They snuck out the back door of the kitchen into the alley behind the inn, crouching in the snowdrift. The winter wind stung Emma’s exposed skin. She could see men running through the street at the end of the alley; it was the last place she wanted to go, but they had no choice – it was their only exit. Emma pulled an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow.

“As soon as I say it, you run. Don’t look back; just keep going until you’re home.”

“What about you?” Ruby’s eyes were wide and her hands were clenched tightly around Emma’s forearms.

“I’ll be right behind you, but I have to make sure no one gets us.” She spared a quick glance around the corner. “Ready? Ok – go!”

They burst out of the alley, sprinting down the street past the bar. A man turned towards them, their motion catching his eye, and Emma saw him yell for some of his cohorts; within seconds, a group of men were rushing towards them. Emma planted her feet and pulled back her bow; she took a steadying breath before letting her first arrow fly into the leading man’s chest. He stumbled back and fell to the ground but she didn’t have time to pause – the rest of the men were still coming at her. She grabbed another arrow and let it fly, then another, and another until the group of men were all splayed out on the ground.

Emma’s hands shook uncontrollably with the adrenaline pulsing through her body; she had to get out of here. Suddenly, a man grabbed her arm hard, pulling her roughly towards him and causing her to drop the bow. The man’s eyes glinted madly. Emma pushed and hit and scratched at her attacker, gaining a few feet of distance between them, but the man had already raised his sword above his head. There was no way she could move fast enough – the strike would hit her, most likely kill her.

But the blow never fell. She stared at the frozen man, eyes wide. His hands were still gripping the sword that was raised above his head, but the blade that was protruding from his abdomen stayed his hand. She watched in horror as the blade was pulled out of his stomach; the man’s eyes were glazed over and the sword fell from his hands as blood began to bubble from between his lips. Then he fell.

“Watch it, love. I’d hate for something to happen to you before I even knew your name.”

It was the pirate – the one that had been talking to her all evening. He looked away from her, scanning the street, making sure it was secure.

“Looks like they’re retreating.” Emma studied him. He appeared to be uninjured, but there was a long gash through his leather coat that could have been bad had it landed a few inches closer to his body. Her eyes drifted up to his face and she was surprised to find him staring at her.

“Emma! Emma, oh my god – are you ok?” Ruby was frantic with worry as she ran up, grabbing onto Emma’s upper arms. “You’re not hurt are you? Oh god, August is going to kill me if you’re hurt… he’ll never forgive me! You’re not bleeding, are you? You weren’t stabbed? What about those guys – did they touch you?”

“Ruby, I’m fine!” She cut off her panicked friend’s rambling. “At the most, I’ll have a bruise on my arm where one guy grabbed me. Other than that, I’m not hurt.” Ruby’s concern melted away into a relief.

“Oh, thank god! I was so worried… I was running just like you said but when I looked back you weren’t there. I couldn’t see you anywhere.” Ruby released her bruising grip and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

“You too, Rubes.” Emma hugged her back, giving a little squeeze so she’d know that she’d been just as worried about her.

Ruby released her and stepped back as she noticed the dark-haired pirate. The three were silent for a moment before Ruby muttered something about checking on her brother and scampered away. He stared at her, his eyes betraying something deeper than the carefree and flirtatious spark from earlier in the evening. It was darker – angrier. It caused her to break out in goosebumps even though she knew the anger wasn’t directed at her.

“You’re not hurt.” It wasn’t phrased as a question but she saw the look in his eyes; something akin to concern.

“I’m not hurt.”

And with that, the tension eased and he smiled at her; not a smirk, or a leer, or a grin – a genuine smile. It was infectious. To prevent a smile of her own, she stared down at the ground between them.

“I owe you thanks, pirate.” She refused to meet his eyes. “You saved my life.”

“Well, now – don’t you sound like a proper lady.” Her eyes shot up at his statement; he was grinning, teasing her. “Although, you certainly didn’t look a proper lady while you were shooting arrows into those brigands’ chests.”

“Me? A proper lady? Ha!” She scoffed. “Fancy parties, sipping tea and making small talk, wearing a god-awful dress… where’s the fun in that? I’d prefer a crazy bar – even on a night like this – over that any day.”

“Too true, love. So…” He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space; there were only a few inches between them now and his smile was making it hard for her to breathe. “Are you going to tell me your name now?” His hand stretched out, reaching for the ends of her hair; he twirled it around his finger waiting for her answer.

Why didn’t she want to tell him her name, again? She couldn’t seem to remember anymore. Something about personal and… – why did he have to stare at her like that? – … and about not everyone needing... – why was he still touching her hair?! –... not everyone needing to know something. Yeah, so she couldn’t even think coherently anymore. She sighed, exasperated – oh, why the hell not.

“It’s Emma. Emma Swan.”

His eyes were such an astonishing shade of blue. She could feel herself sinking into them and absentmindedly thought how he would be trouble.

“Nice to meet you, love. Killian Jones – but most people call me Hook.”


	2. A Temporary Escape and A Surprising Agreement

_“I believe in kindness… also in mischief.”_

* * *

Emma pulled the hood of her cloak a little higher over her head and pushed a telltale strand of blonde hair out of her face; the last thing she wanted was for someone to recognize her. She was currently crouched beside the eastern palace wall, squeezed between a bush and an oak tree and completely hidden from view; it was one of her favorite hiding places but she wasn’t hiding today. No, today she was escaping.

Just for a little while, though.

Her morning had started off normally enough. After being awakened for breakfast with her family, she had been ushered off to her morning studies. Also growing up as a princess, her mother had been exposed to all of the best things in life, including the best instructors; because of this, Emma considered her one of the most knowledgeable people in the kingdom. While her father was charismatic, ruling with the genial good nature he learned from growing up on just a humble farm, her mother was wise and compassionate, winning over the people in the kingdom by inspiration and her refinement alone. This was how the two of them managed to spur the people into action and win back the kingdom that was rightfully theirs in the war against the Evil Queen.

Because of her past, her mother considered it of the utmost importance that Emma be given the best instruction. History, mathematics, geography, politics, and culture studies were just a few of the standard lessons she’d go through on a daily basis, although her mother insisted there also be time set aside for the arts – painting and drawing, crafts like sewing or knitting, and music. For the most part, Emma enjoyed her studies and would often drag out the lessons with question upon question for more detail; however, this morning she’d rushed through, denying even the need for a quick break. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she could leave.

Today she was going to the marketplace.

Alone.

Crouched by the wall, Emma shivered with the excitement. She was absolutely not allowed beyond the palace walls without an escort of some sort, but in the midnight hours from a couple nights past, she’d decided she would venture out on her own. She checked her cloak one more time; everyone in the market would recognize her if they saw her face, hence her coverings.

Emma watched the guards traipse past the small gate – she’d chosen one of the smaller, side gates to escape through as it was much more discreet – and turn towards the western wall before she took off at a sprint; with their backs to her, they never even noticed her slip by their post. Emma continued to sprint down the roads, not slowing down until she was comfortably far from the palace. Glancing back at the sparkling towers, she grinned happily and spun in a circle. Freedom at last.

The sound of laughter, drums, and hundreds of voices reached her ears long before she ever caught sight of the market, and when she finally reached it, she was pleased at all the commotion; she loved that the marketplace was always a flurry of movement and sound. Row upon row of tents stretched out before her, vendors attempting to coax buyers to their stands to buy various items. Emma wandered through, pausing here and there to inspect this trinket that would ‘cause her true love to find her’ or that totem that would ‘ward off even the most evil spirit.’ She made sure to keep her face hidden, though.

She’d been gone for almost four hours when a colorful tent caught her eye as she turned from the portly gentleman that was currently trying to sell her fish. It wasn’t a large tent, but it made up for its lack of size with color; there was every color of the rainbow, and many that were in between, in the items displayed. Emma worked her way through the throng of people until she stood at the tent. Scarves. That’s what the vendor was selling, what was so colorful. She reached out, brushing her fingers against the delicate fabric of a lilac colored scarf; it was so beautiful. But she hadn’t brought along any money.

“Hello, dear. Would you like to take a closer look?” The seller was an elderly woman with a kind face that reminded her of her grandmother, the one on her father’s side; she’d never met her grandparents on her mother’s side, them having died before she was born. The lady motioned to the scarf Emma had been admiring. “I’m sure it would look lovely on you.”

“Oh, I’d love to but I don’t have any money. Thank you, though. They’re very pretty.” Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Money wasn’t the only thing she’d forgotten to bring; she’d also left the palace without remembering to bring along some food.

“Sounds like you’re hungry.” The lady was still smiling at her. “There’s an apple stand right down there a ways. Go down there and tell him Granny sent you; he’ll be sure to give you an apple.”

Emma smiled in appreciation. “Thank you very much, ma’am.” She turned and wound her way past several more tents before she spotted the apple stand. They looked delicious.

“Excuse me, sir?” The man turned, his protruding belly almost hitting her. “I’m terribly hungry and the lady that sells scarves down there – Granny – well, she told me to come down here and tell you that she sent me. She said you’d give me an apple.”

“Oh, she told you that, huh?” The man was looking down at her, a sneer on his lips. “Well, too bad, kid. I can’t afford to feed charity cases.”

Charity cases? The nerve. She had half a mind to inform him that she was no charity case, but he’d already turned back around to face his real, willing-to-pay customers. Oh well, it was her own fault, really. Coming out here without food or money had been dumb; she’d make sure to be better prepared next time. But still… her eyes wandered back to the apples. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now well past noon, probably closer to dinnertime. The man was still talking to his other customers, his back to her; he would probably never even realize it if… because, really, it was only one apple… and she could always come back another day to repay him. Her hand twitched, itching to reach for the red fruit in front of her.

But stealing was _wrong_.

But she was so _hungry_.

But she couldn’t just take something that wasn’t hers…

Could she?

Her stomach growled again, the aching hollow feeling making her feel light-headed and slightly sick, and that was the last push she needed. She reached out, snatching the apple closest to her before easing away, trying to slide back into the crowd.

“Hey, that girl stole an apple!”

Emma’s eyes shot up in panic; a young woman with a baby on her hip was pointing straight at her and the man was already coming for her, an angry look in his eyes. She pushed against the wall of people behind her, desperate to get away, but he was too quick. In a flash, he’d grabbed her and pulled her forward, away from the crowd and her only chance of escape.

“I told you I ain’t no charity case, kid – now, give me that!” He pulled the apple from her hands, tossing it back onto the cart. With his merchandise safely returned, he focused his full attention on Emma. “You think you can steal from Bartok and get away with it? Think you’re pretty smart, little thief?”

He strengthened his grip on her arm and then pulled her into the air. The man was crushing her wrist, dangling her several feet above the ground; she felt like her shoulder would dislocate at any second, the weight of her body too much for the small socket to hold. Her free hand clawed at the hand wrapped around her wrist like a vice while she attempted a kick towards his body, but it was in vain; her legs were far too short to reach him. He shook her roughly.

“Do you know what we do to thieves around here, girl? We take them in chains to the King and Queen for a trial, and when they’re found guilty they’re dumped into the prison pit to wait out the rest of their lives alone. That is, unless the King and Queen decide to execute them instead of letting them take up valuable prison room.”

Of course, Emma knew that what he was saying was ridiculous; her parents would never treat anyone so atrociously no matter what the crime. Wisely, though, she decided to hold her tongue instead of attempting to refute his statement.

“So what’ll it be, girl? Shall I drag you up to the palace in chains? Let them make an example out of you? Answer me, thief!”

He shook her roughly again, except this time her hood fell back exposing her face and telling blonde hair. Immediately, the crowd gasped and the man released her wrist in surprise; she fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Emma could hear the whispers race through the crowd like wildfire.

_The princess…_

_It’s Princess Emma…_

_What’s she doing here?_

_And dressed like that?_

_Where on earth is her escort?_

Her exciting little escapade had come to a crashing end.

“Milady… Princess. Please forgive me!” The man – Bartok – crouched on his knees in front of her. “If I’d known it was you…”

“Sir, stand back, if you will.” It was a couple of the palace guards; someone in the crowd must have gone to fetch them when she was exposed. “Princess, are you ok?” The guard reached out, gently taking her wrist in his hand and inspecting it for any breaks.

“I… I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Princess. Now, we must get you back to the palace; the King and Queen have been very worried about you.”

Great… her parents already knew she’d run off; that meant these guards had already been out looking for her. Emma let the guard pull her to her feet and lead her away to a carriage. As she stepped up into the carriage, she glanced behind her. The crowd hadn’t moved an inch, they stood there as if they were frozen, staring at her; Bartok was still kneeling on the ground. She sighed, disappointed, and the driver closed the door.

The ride back to the palace was long, the driver slowly maneuvering the busy streets, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Emma dreaded the conversation she knew would take place when she arrived home. And true enough, as the carriage pulled in front of the palace’s main gates, her parents were standing there waiting for her. She waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out, her stomach flopping around nervously as she made her way up the steps.

“Mother.” The greeting came out as a tiny whisper. “Father.” It was hard to meet their eyes; it was obvious as to how angry and upset they were.

“Let’s take this inside, shall we?”

Her father’s softly spoken words did nothing to ease her nervousness. Emma had learned at a very young age that her father was somewhat quick to anger but that a majority of the time it was fleeting, burning out as quickly as it started; he would react, possibly yell, and then return to his normal self. It was when he remained calm, in times such as this, that it really worried her. She followed her parents wordlessly through the doors, up the grand staircase, and down the hallways to her father’s study, doing her best to ignore the pitying stares of the house staff along the way. She felt claustrophobic, ensnared, as her father closed the door.

“We are very disappointed in you, Emma! I don’t know what possessed you to leave the palace unattended. You’re only ten, Emma – ten! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to wander off alone? What could’ve happened to you?” Her mother was yelling at her and it was the first time Emma had ever experienced that; her mother was always calm, never yelled. Guess there’s a first time for everything. “You are a princess. There are plenty of people in this kingdom who would gladly snatch up a young princess for their own gain.”

“Why would anyone want me?” Emma was confused. “I haven’t done anything.”

“It’s not what you have or haven’t done – it’s simply who you are.” It was her father that spoke now, her mom having turned away seemingly unable to even look at her. His voice was calmer. “You are an important part of this kingdom, of this family. We love you so much, sweetheart, and we would do anything, absolutely anything, for you… and everyone in this kingdom knows it. If there were someone out there that wished to do us harm, wished to get to us, all they’d have to do is go through you.”

Emma couldn’t help but notice the shudder that swept through her mother.

“But why would someone want to hurt or get to you? I’ve already heard all the stories about how you and Mom finally caught the Evil Queen and banished her from the kingdom… without her around, there’s no one else to hurt you. I thought everyone was happy now.”

“They are, dear. We just worry about you so much.” Her mother had cut back in now. “We want you to be careful.”

“I’ll be careful from now on, Mom, I promise. I’m sorry…” Emma was sorry, to an extent; sorry she got caught.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s ok.” Her father put his arm over her mother’s shoulders. “I understand why you wanted to go out on your own; you’re growing up so fast.”

“Do you think…” Emma hesitated, unsure whether she should even ask. “Do you think I could ever go back to the market?”

“Of course, baby. We’ll take you back down there tomorrow, if you want.” Her mother was smiling at her now.

“I meant… I meant alone. You know, by myself.” The smile was gone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. She shouldn’t have even asked.

“Absolutely not.”

“But Mom…”

“Not without an escort.”

“But Mom, that’s not…”

“Enough, Emma!” More yelling. Emma scowled and refused to meet her mother’s eyes, stubbornly staring at the floor instead. “You will stay within the castle walls unless accompanied by an escort. End of story.”

Silence filled the room; it was a harsh silence that seemed to ring in Emma’s ears after all of the yelling. She struggled to hold back her tears. They weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of anger, but even still, she refused to cry in front of anyone – even her parents – refused to even sniffle. When she knew her voice wouldn’t crack and betray her, she spoke.

“May I be excused now?”

Her mother sighed and it was a sad sound; she reached forward and pulled Emma into her arms but it was a one-sided embrace. Emma didn’t wrap her arms around her mother’s body, didn’t return the hug. She kept her arms glued to her sides, hands clenched into fists. Her mother squeezed just a little before releasing her.

“Yes, you’re excused. Would you like some dinner before you go upstairs?”

“No, thank you.”

And with that, Emma exited her father’s study.

Hours later, Emma lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her hands tucked behind her head; she hadn’t moved from the position since she got back from the talk with her parents. When she was just a small child, her parents had asked the Blue Fairy to cast a spell on her ceiling so that it replicated the sky outside; by doing so, they ensured that she would always be able to see outside even when she wasn’t allowed to actually be outside. Now, she stared up at the inky blackness of her ceiling. The sliver of the waning moon hung in one of the far corners of the room, its soft light allowing her to make out the hundreds of thousands of stars that stretched across the sky.

Her eyes drifted from star to star, picking out the constellations she knew so well – Orion, the hunter; Ursa Major, the great bear; Pegasus, the flying horse; Perseus, the hero; Aquila, the eagle; Leo, the lion; Sagittarius, the archer; Cygnus, the swan. Her mother had taught her all of the constellations, would lie out on the grass of the palace lawn and point them out to her night after night until she’d learned them all and where to find them by heart. She was probably only four or five years old at the time.

It was one of her fondest memories of her mother.

_“And see those stars right there?” Her mother was leaning back against an old tree stump, Emma tucked between her legs and leaning back against her body. Her mother’s finger moved from light to light, outlining the shape in the heavens. “That’s Cygnus, the swan.”_

_“Hey!” She’d shouted out with the happiness only a child’s innocence can have. “My name is Swan!”_

_Her mother had then gathered her into a hug. “That’s right, my beautiful little swan – you are so precious and so loved that the gods named the stars after you.”_

_“They did?”_

_“Yes, sweetheart – they did.”_

_“Wow…”_

Childlike innocence, indeed. Too bad it doesn’t last. At the tender age of only ten years old, Emma already felt like a cynic.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Emma was out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown, and making her way silently down the hall to her parent’s bedroom. Once she arrived there, she stopped; she had no clue why she’d even come down here. But then she heard it – their muffled voices through the door. It was so late… why were they even still awake? Quietly, she eased up to the wood and pressed her ear against it, trying to make out what her parents were saying.

“You know the plan, Snow. We have to stick to it.”

“It’s too risky…”

“Riskier than the alternative? I doubt it.”

“We can’t tell her.”

“Well, we can’t just let her grow up oblivious, either. Unless she knows the seriousness of the situation, she’ll keep pushing the boundaries.” Her father paused. “And we’ll keep having incidents like this evening.”

“I did what I had to…”

“Snow, you don’t think maybe you were a little too harsh? She doesn’t know, doesn’t understand the danger yet. If we just tell her…”

“How could she even _begin_ to accept what’s going on?” It went quiet, but Emma couldn’t tell if they’d stopped talking or just lowered their voices. Then she heard her mother again. “I can’t lose her, Charming. She means the world to me and I’ll do whatever I can to keep her safe, even if it means she’ll hate me for it.”

Emma retreated from the door and padded silently down the hallway back to her room. Flopping down on her bed, she knew she would be awake for most of the night; her head just wouldn’t stop going over everything that happened that day. She once again stared at the ceiling, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. She had no idea what her parents had been talking about, some plan and whatever danger was out there, but she did know one thing – that one day, she’d leave this place. If not, she was absolutely sure she’d go crazy. She’d do anything to get out; she’d run away, if that’s what it took.

Emma bolted upright in her bed.

That’s it – she’d run away! She’d run away and, far from her overbearing parents and any danger they thought was waiting for her, she’d finally be able to experience the world, live her own dreams. But it would have to be somewhere far away, somewhere no one would be able to recognize her. Anywhere even remotely close to the kingdom would be too risky; people would know her, tip off her parents as to her location. Yes, somewhere really far away…

She lay down, then, more content than she’d been in a while. The idea burned through her brain and she began to plan how she could make it work and that gave her hope; hope that she wouldn’t be subject to all this hoity-toity royal nonsense, to the boring and dull future her parents had envisioned for her. Yes, she’d run away. Then she could watch the stars in the real sky, pointing them out from a flower-filled meadow or a windy beach or a snow-covered mountainside. Emma finally drifted off to sleep, a small smile on her face.

* * *

“Em, are you about done with the rags? I need to wipe these tables off.”

“Yeah, here you go.”

The Salty Dog Inn was a hole-in-the-wall sort of business; it didn’t look very appealing from the outside, but inside it was warm, welcoming, and homey. Upon entering the front door, guests would come into a narrow room, a small lobby of sorts with a desk against the right wall where they could pay for a room. When they were younger, Ruby and Emma used to manage that part of the inn; however, as they got older, Ruby’s father realized it would be more monetarily beneficial for the two of them to run the pub instead of August, and so they’d swapped responsibilities.

After getting a room key from August, the guests had the choice to either go up the stairs to their left that led to the rooms that spread over the second and third floor or go through the wide doorway directly in front of them to the pub. The rooms upstairs were nothing special, but then, most of the people that came to Tortuga weren’t exactly expecting refined accommodations to start with.

The pub was a different story. It was a decent-sized room that spread over the remaining ground floor. Rustic beams hung on the ceiling, the floors were well-worn from years of traffic, long oak tables and benches spread out in rows throughout the room, and all this led to the polished wooden bar that ran along the entire back wall of the room.

Emma loved everything about it.

She tossed the rag across the bar to Ruby’s waiting hand. It was getting close to opening time so they were doing some last-minute cleaning to get ready for the evening rush. Emma idly arranged the rows of mugs on the counter before stooping to pick up the club that had fallen out of its cubby; her thoughts drifted back to the last night she’d had to use it.

They never had figured out what happened that night in Tortuga. The most they could deduce was that the attack was revenge-based; most likely bad blood between the crews of two different ships. Everyone else just happened to get caught in the crossfire. But such was the way in Tortuga. Always exciting, rarely dull.

“Ladies.” A man greeted Emma as he walked through the door and up to the bar. “You look ravishing tonight, Emma.” He was attractive, his wavy brown hair falling over his forehead; he was also someone she could never sleep with. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but give him a hard time.

“It’s a little early to start drinking, isn’t it? And alone, no less.”

“Alas, that’s the life of a lone wolf – alone more often than not. However, feel free to accompany me and spare me my loneliness any time.” He leaned forward over the bar towards her, eyebrows raised cheekily. Ruby chose that moment to enter from the kitchen.

“Graham, stop harassing my friend or I’ll have to hurt you.”

“Ruby, darling!” His eyes shot to the brunette immediately. Emma knew that no matter how many times he threw cheesy pickup lines her way, he always had his eyes set on Ruby; she was the prize. “I’ve missed you, gorgeous – tell me you’ve missed me too.” Her friend cocked an eyebrow at him.

“In your dreams, buddy.”

“You wound me.” Not to be brushed off so easily, Graham followed her to the end of the bar, smiling at her charmingly. “Ruby, when are you going to go on a date with me?”

“You’re ridiculous. You know very well how many _dates_ we’ve gone on.” Ruby emphasized the word dates and it was ironic because they’d never really been on a date; not an official one, at least. Their relationship was more of the casual hookup type. Most people would call it a one-night stand but their trysts had spanned over the course of the past few years.

Graham had come to Tortuga almost four years ago in an attempt to escape the law.

_“I’m a huntsman, you see. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it’s not always animals. Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I’m on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out.”_

From the first evening he’d shown up at the inn, he’d had eyes for Ruby; he’d spent the whole night flirting shamelessly with her until she finally relented, going back to his place for the night. From that point, they’d been… well, lovers was the only word that could really describe it. Despite their obvious mutual attraction, though, neither one of them had ever made any move to be exclusive. This meant their time together consisted of mainly sex and little else and that each of them was free to sleep with whoever else they wished.

Emma knew for a fact that both Ruby and Graham abided by those rules; she could remember plenty of instances where Ruby had left early to sleep with a guest and plenty of nights where Graham had stumbled out of the bar with a random woman. After a couple years, Graham had moved to a small port a little south of Tortuga but still came into town occasionally for business; when he was in town Emma didn’t see much of Ruby.

“Yes, but it’s been entirely too long…” He lowered his voice and Emma saw him seize Ruby’s hand out of the corner of her eye. He began to whisper words to Ruby soothingly to which the brunette smiled in return, and Emma decided to move away from the bar to give them some privacy.

They were adorable together, obviously infatuated, yet so stubborn. Emma was sure that Graham would willingly stay with only Ruby, but her friend had always been the one to set a limit on their relationship; she’d grown up as a barmaid in Tortuga – she didn’t trust any man that walked through the door with her heart.

Emma could empathize with her on that. Tortuga was no place to fall in love.

The bar began to fill up as the evening wore on; men filed in, tired from a hard day’s work on the docks or ships and eager for a drink to help them relax. It was a quiet evening though, as far as work was concerned. The majority of the men scattered around the bar were regulars and, therefore, didn’t hassle Emma or Ruby too much. It was getting late, close to midnight, when she heard it.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, love.”

Emma’s hands stilled on the bottles of liquor she’d been handling; she hadn’t heard his voice in nearly four months. After their initial meeting that first night, he’d only stayed in town until the next day before sailing out for god knows where, but he had stopped in before he’d left to tell her goodbye.

_“Hello, beautiful.”_

_“What was the point of me telling you my name if you’re not going to use it?”_

_“It’s for future reference, love; insurance, if you will. Might come in handy someday.” Hook flashed a grin her way and she was absolutely sure that’s how he managed to get all the women into his bed. He was too handsome, and the problem was that he knew it._

_“You’re here awfully early, Hook; it’s only three. We won’t be open for a few more hours.”_

_“I know. I decided to stop by on the chance that I could get some one-on-one time with you. You know… alone. Just the two of us.” He looked at her suggestively, playing with her. Emma turned to the bar, busying herself with straightening items and cleaning; she was doing her best not to look at him, trying to play at disinterest._

_“Yeah, I know what one-on-one means and you’re not getting any.”_

_“You sure, love? You don’t know what you’re missing.”_

_“That good, huh?”_

_“Never had a complaint.”_

_“For some reason I doubt that.” Actually, no she didn’t. Emma was pretty sure Hook knew his way around a bed and a woman’s body all too well._

_“You never know until you try it.”_

_“And what makes you think you have anything I want to try?”_

_“You know you’re curious.” Did he ever stop smirking? “Resistance is a dangerous game, love, and most likely futile.”_

_“Hardly. You’ll sail out of here and forget all about this little tavern wench before too long.”_

_“You’re no common tavern wench… And anyways, how could I forget you?”_

_“Because you’ll have so many other women throwing themselves at you, eager to ‘try what you have to offer,’ as you put it.”_

_“I won’t forget you, love, especially when you have so many things that I want to try.”_

_“God, do you ever stop?” The laugh she’d been holding back finally burst out, unable to hold it back any longer._

_“I actually came down here to tell you that I’m leaving.” Her eyes shot to his, her laugh dying in her throat. His face was completely serious, all traces of their earlier, playful banter gone._

_“You’re sailing out? So soon?” Emma kicked herself. She didn’t care if he was leaving already – really, she didn’t. Really._

_“Aye. Bit of bad news came my way this morning, something I need to take care of.” He reached forward, playing with the tips of her hair like he had the night before. “We’ll be pushing off within the hour.”_

_Emma didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything._

_“Last night was a little more hectic than I imagined it would be… kind of disrupted the evening I had planned for us.”_

_She still didn’t know what to say._

_“I would’ve liked to have spent more time in your delightful company.”_

_And she still didn’t know what to say._

_“Especially since you’re so eloquent.” He smirked, teasing her silence, and she rolled her eyes._

_“Oh, shut up.” Excellent comeback, Emma – what was she, five? He was still playing with her hair. “Be careful out there; it looks like it could storm any moment.”_

_“The sea hasn’t bested me yet, not to say she hasn’t tried.”_

_“You’re probably just too stubborn.” She grinned back at him._

_“That I am; I never give up on a challenge.” Emma wasn’t sure if they were just talking about the sea anymore. “You be careful, too, love; keep that bow handy.”_

_Hook backed away then, dropping his hand before walking for the exit. He paused, one hand on the door, and said something over his shoulder with his signature grin before walking out. The words seemed to float across the room to her in slow motion._

_“Think about me, Miss Swan.”_

_As if she could forget him._

“Bloody hell – look what the storm blew in.” Emma said it with a playful smirk on her face as she turned and crossed her arms, her eyes meeting Hook’s blue ones. “I tell you, they’ll let anyone in here nowadays.”

“Ah, I missed you too, love.”

He looked good. She’d forgotten how good.

“Emma, can you get me a…” Ruby trailed off when she noticed just who exactly was across the bar. Emma’s eyes never left Hook’s but she knew her friend well enough to know she was probably grinning from ear to ear; Ruby had pestered her insistently over the past four months about Hook, always finding ways to casually bring him up in their conversations.

“Sorry, lass, but Emma’s done for the evening.”

What?

“She has other business to attend to.”

Emma’s shocked silence was broken. “Is that so? And pray tell, what business will I be attending?”

“You have to spend time with me.” She opened her mouth to shut him down right there but he interjected before she could even speak. “Relax, love – it’ll just be you and me and a couple drinks. We can even stay here at the bar, if you’d like.”

The implication that their date could have occurred somewhere else was not lost on her. Ugh… pirates. He stood there, grinning at her casually; he was most like hoping for her to say they could go somewhere more private. She motioned to the tables, instead.

“Let’s have a seat.” Translation – _I’m not going to sleep with you_.

Hook led the way to an empty table and Emma settled down across from him. It was a surprisingly nice conversation, apart from the occasional innuendo thrown her way, and Emma found herself enjoying the evening. She asked how he’d been; he asked if she’d had any more reasons to shoot her bow. She asked where he’d been sailing the past few months; he asked whether she ever travelled outside Tortuga. She asked what made him want to live on the seas; he asked if she’d thought about him at all. It was a tame exchange for him, she was sure.

“I’ve been curious, love – where did you learn to shoot a bow? Not exactly a common weapon for a pirate.”

“My parents weren’t pirates and I didn’t grow up in Tortuga; I didn’t come here until I was twelve.

My parents tried to teach me ways to defend myself when I was younger but archery was the only thing that stuck.”

“Yes, I’d say you have a knack for it. So how _does_ a young lass end up in Tortuga, of all places, as a barmaid? I’m sensing there are a lot of things that happened between point A and point B.”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

And cue awkward silence.

Hook stared at her, the lighthearted look sliding off his face at her serious tone. There was something about him, Emma could feel it; something deeper, covered up by all of his bravado and flirting. A dark look flitted across his face and she knew he understood her reluctance to talk. Everyone had their demons and he obviously was haunted by those of his own past. Some things were just better left unsaid. Hook reached for his tankard and tipped it towards her slightly in a mock salute before taking a drink.

“A bow is only helpful from a distance; you really should learn the art of swordplay. Couldn’t hurt, especially around these parts.” It was an attempt to bring the conversation back to easier territory; Emma appreciated the effort. Without warning, Hook slammed his tankard onto the table. “I’ve got it – I’ll teach you.”

That was definitely not what she’d been expecting him to say.

“Umm, no… you really don’t have to…”

“Nonsense – you’re a delicate lass in need of an education. What kind of man would I be to allow you to remain so exposed to the dangers of the world without proper protection?” She frowned at his absurd statements.

“I’m hardly delicate.”

“Maybe so – but you _are_ in desperate need of an instructor; you’re just lucky that you get one that’s easy to look at.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Hook.” His smug grin assured her that he could see right through her snub. “Why are you even offering to teach me? In case you haven’t noticed, I live in Tortuga. Seventy-five percent of the men that live here know swordplay; the other twenty-five percent are just too old to remember or too young to have learned it yet.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s in it for you?”

“Being able to enjoy the view would be a start. And we can’t forget the physical contact…”

“Good lord, would you be like this the whole time?”

“I’m only a man, love; I find it very hard to not notice your various… charms.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her better judgment. She’d grown up working in a bar frequented by pirates and rogues; these types of come-ons shouldn’t make her react the way she was. The difference, she realized, was that most of the men that hit on her like Hook was didn’t look like Hook did. She couldn’t deny that he really was nice to look at, found it hard not to notice his ‘charms.’ The lack of a response from her confirmed it for him; she could see the look in his eyes – he knew he had her.

“So, shall we discuss the terms of payment?”

What? The sudden turn in the conversation made her pause before she answered him, incredulous.

“But you _offered_ to teach me!”

“I’m a pirate, love – I don’t do anything for free.” Of course not.

“Then it’s your lucky day because I really don’t think I’m in need of any instruct…”

“A kiss.”

Emma stared at Hook, not even caring that he’d cut her off; she was searching, searching for that gleam that was always in his eyes during their bantering but she came up short. He was dead serious.

“That’s my price. One kiss to be claimed at a date and time of my choosing.”

“That’s awfully forward of you, Hook.”

Shoulders shrugging upwards, he ignored her statement. “You never know when being able to wield a blade might come in handy.” Emma was distinctly reminded of her father trying to convince her mother to allow her to learn how to protect herself with similar words. “Like I said, a long-distance kill is preferable, but you can’t always depend on that. You need to know how to defend yourself if things get up close and personal.”

Tortuga was a dangerous town. It was far outside the influences of the King and Queen, making it difficult to govern and control; this meant very few royal soldiers ever came through to check up on its activities. It was one of the reasons Emma had chosen this place to settle. Hook wasn’t an idiot – Emma knew that he was well aware of the dangers often presented in port towns; the brawl from his prior visit was proof of that. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t been around…

“Just one kiss?”

“Just one.” He confirmed with a sly smile, the glint returning to his eyes. “Unless you beg for more.”

“You wish…”

“The thought has crossed my mind on more than occasion.”

Emma glared at him, eyes narrowed. She didn’t have to learn from him; hell, she didn’t have to learn swordplay in general. But if something were to happen, if she was in close quarters with an attacker… well, there was no way her bow would do her any good unless she were to beat it over their head in which case it would probably break before doing her foe any real damage. But still…

“I could always get someone else; it doesn’t have to be you.”

Hook smiled and it was mostly genuine. Mostly.

“But you don’t want it to be someone else.” Voice low, he was calling her bluff. “Come on, Swan. I promise I don’t bite. I won’t even touch you – unless you ask me to, that is.”

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“That too.”


	3. An Attack and A Parry

_“The earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair.”_

* * *

“Strike – that’s good. Now what? Ah ok, you cut down and I block. And a spin to the left – excellent move – but I block again. What will you do now? Out of ideas? Alright, let’s put you on the defensive.”

Emma gripped the long sword in her hands, her arms trembling with the strength it took to hold the blade out against its opponent. The opposing blade slid down hers with a metallic scratching sound, slipping free and swinging around towards her unprotected right side. Thinking on her feet, Emma slid her right foot back and swung her sword, effectively stopping the blade with a harsh clang.

“Good job – and now we move again.”

Her father continued his advance, using move after move, forcing her to think and react quickly. All of the moves he utilized were ones that he’d taught her over the past few years and Emma realized that he was testing her. An exam, of sorts, a way to demonstrate all that she’d learned. He would press forward, forcing her to parry his attack before dropping back and allowing her to move against him. It never lasted long, though – her father was much too good and she tired quickly. With a flick of his wrist, her sword was twisted from her fingers and fell a foot away.

“Let’s take a break.”

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Breathing heavily, Emma sat down and decided not to care about the seat of her trousers getting wet from the dewy grass. With her arms resting on her knees, Emma tried to catch her breath after the exertions. The Enchanted Forest was on the cusp of fall; all of the trees’ leaves were a beautiful combination of oranges and golds and there was a crisp bite to the cool morning air. Despite the chill, she had worked up a sweat that made her shirt cling to her back and caused the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail to stick to her clammy skin. Emma was sure her mother would be horrified at the un-ladylikeness of it all.

“You’re getting very good, sweetheart. You’ve improved a lot.”

“Thanks, Dad. But I have to say, I still prefer archery.”

“That’s only because you don’t have to practice at it as much.” Which was true.

Emma had been roughly six and a half when her father abruptly decided he was going to toughen her up. According to him, he couldn’t stand to see her grow up solely under her mother’s coddling influence and turn out like too much of a girly-girl. So he began to teach her the art of swordplay, archery, and horseback riding.

After almost five years, Emma found that she still struggled with sword fighting the most; it just wasn’t something she had a natural gift for and never had the desire to practice and improve. Archery, on the other hand, was what she truly enjoyed. It had taken her all of a couple hours to begin mastering the weapon and her parents had been astounded. Within six months, Emma was able to best even the highest-ranking soldier in the royal guard.

_“I think I know where she gets it.” Her father looked at her mother’s surprised face as Emma ran up to them. She’d just won a shooting match against Jefferson, one of the best archers in the royal guard. Emma could hardly contain her excitement as her mother’s face slowly broke out into a proud smile._

“Oh, Emma, why are you all dirty? And why are you wearing those pants?” Emma’s head swiveled around to see her mother descending the steps to the lawn.

“She can’t very well duel in a skirt or dress, now, can she?” Her father’s voice was teasing as he winked in Emma’s direction.

“She _shouldn’t_ be learning how to duel at all.” Her mother’s tone was disapproving.

“Well, then she can’t very well ride horses in a skirt or dress, can she?”

“She shouldn’t be riding any horses either!”

Emma smiled at the exchange between her parents. It had been a constant battle between the two of them as far back as she could remember. Her father wanted to raise her to be a strong and independent girl that could take care of herself, if need be; her mother wanted to raise her to be a prim and proper princess. The difference in their parenting styles often led to these kinds of discussions.

“All of this fighting, Charming, teaching her swordplay and archery… must you?” Her mother whispered, not realizing that Emma could still hear her just fine. Her father’s hands rested on his wife’s upper arms before pulling her into an embrace.

“She’ll be fine, dear; she’s so well protected here I doubt any kind of harm could ever befall her. Even still - you never know when it might come in handy.” He pulled back and tipped her mother’s face towards his, looking her in the eyes. “It came in handy for you to know these things, didn’t it?”

“That was different.”

Her parents stared at each other for a moment, some private and silent conversation passing between them, before her mother turned.

“Emma, it’s almost time for your afternoon lessons. Why don’t you go on inside and clean up a bit before you go?”

“Do I have to?” At the look on her mother’s face, Emma turned to stare pleadingly at her father. Nope, there would be no backup from him. “Very well.” It came out as a frustrated sigh. Before she left, though…

Emma turned back to the target and drew her bow. The nocking point rested against her cheekbone, her knuckle brushed the curve of her ear, the string hovered centimeters from the tip of her nose. Her back was taut with the tension of pulling the bow back and her left hand pressed firmly against the hand rest, holding everything steady. She stared down the shaft of the arrow, calmly exhaling the breath she always held when preparing to shoot. A breeze drifted by; a few leaves blew across her view and a lock of hair fluttered to land in her face, but her vision was fixated on the target.

Then, she released.

“Well done, darling. Excellent shot. Now go on and give Grumpy your bow and let’s go inside.”

Emma handed off the bow to the dwarf, satisfied, before turning to follow her parents. She missed the look on Grumpy’s face as he stared across the field, looking at her shot.

The arrow was sunk deep in the target, directly in the bull’s-eye.

* * *

Emma swung around, bringing her sword down to parry an imaginary attack from an imaginary foe.

Then she pushed the imaginary blade away and swung her sword across her body, making the imaginary person stumble back.

Then she leaped forward into a lunge, thrusting her sword between the imaginary ribs of the imaginary assailant.

Then she triumphantly watched the imaginary man fall to the ground as he gave a dramatic imaginary gasp with the last of his imaginary breath.

Clearly, Emma had too much of an imagination.

And she probably looked like an idiot.

Feeling self-conscious, Emma glanced around the clearing – nothing. She had found this little area while wandering around one day not long after she’d first arrived in Tortuga. It was roughly a quarter mile outside town and hidden by the thick forest that surrounded it on all sides; the perfect place to get some alone time. Or to practice her swordplay without everyone watching her.

She twirled the short sword in her hand before grasping it firmly again. It was a wicked little thing – roughly two feet long, its blade curved slightly before tapering to a sharp point and it had edges so sharp they gleamed. Hook had given it to her.

_“What the hell is that?”_

_Hook looked between Emma and the blade in his hand. “It’s a short sword.” As if that was the most obvious thing in the world._

_“It looks like a toothpick.”_

_“Trust me, it stabs quite a bit deeper than a toothpick.”_

_“I want a longer sword.” She crossed her arms and tried to stare him down._

_“Too bad. My lessons, my rules – you get this one.”_

_“But it’s too tiny.”_

_“It works just fine.”_

_“Then why don’t you use it?”_

_“Just take the damn thing, woman!”_

_It was smaller, much smaller, than the swords she’d grown up seeing. Her father had always used a long sword; it would stretch far in front him and, as she watched him practice, she’d always wondered how on earth anyone could ever hurt him. With a reach that long, he should’ve been able to chop anyone to bits before they could even get close. If she were to go up against her father with the short sword Hook was offering to her, he’d easily skewer her before she could even get close._

_With an exaggerated huff, Emma pulled the sword from his hand. It was lighter than she expected, but then again she hadn’t handled a sword since she was probably eleven or so._

_“Longer swords can be unwieldy, love; they’re slower to move and require more effort. A short sword will suit you much better.” Emma looked at him with doubt. “Trust me.” At her continued look of uncertainty, he sighed. “Repeat after me, Swan: bigger does not mean better.”_

_“Bigger does not mean better.” Emma dutifully repeated the words but cocked an eyebrow at him when he paused and looked at her with a devilish grin._

_“But that doesn’t mean that sometimes it isn’t preferable.”_

_She should have seen that coming._

_“Ok, first things first – you need to learn how to hold your sword.” Hook stepped up beside her to inspect her grip on the sword._

_“I know how to hold a sword.” It came out sounding a little haughtier than she intended, but she held the sword out warily, gripping the hilt with both hands. Even still, she spared him a glance, trying to gauge his reaction._

_“You must have originally been taught with a long sword…” It was a quiet observation said more to himself than to her. “Yeah, that’s not going to work with this baby. She’s a little more delicate, doesn’t like to be manhandled so much. Much like you, love.”_

_An eye roll was her only response._

_“One hand.” He pushed her left arm away. “Now don’t wrap your thumb so far down the hilt, move it up a little – right there. That will allow for better movement.” The sword felt awkward and unsteady in her one hand after the two-handed hold she was used to. “Swan, it’s not going to bite you. Relax.”_

_She tried and, from the amused look on his face, obviously failed. Hook took several steps back._

_“Alright then – stance.”_

_Emma automatically obeyed the command; it reminded her strongly of her father when he was first teaching her. She slid her left foot back until her feet were a little wider than her hips, bent her knees slightly, and held the sword out in front of her. Hook looked pleased._

_“Good – very good, actually. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”_

_“Why don’t you attack me and find out?” What the hell… where had that come from? She heard him chuckle then saw him move in her peripheral vision; he casually swaggered over to where he could face her directly, drawing his sword slowly. Emma’s eyes fell on his blade._

_“Hey, why do you get to use a big sword?”_

_“It’s a cutlass, love; not a long sword by any means. And I get a bigger sword because I wouldn’t be caught dead with that scrawny little piece of steel.” His laugh cut off her outraged retort. “I’m only joking, love. In all honesty, it’s because I’m a man who likes bigger things.” He spun his sword dramatically, showing off. “Do you like big things, Miss Swan?”_

_Her mouth dropped open at the blatant suggestion._

_“Gah… nevermind!”_

Hook was an excellent instructor. Apparently, the numerous battles and skirmishes that came with not only rising to captaincy of a ship but also maintaining said status had given him well-honed skills. He was dangerously meticulous and deadly accurate. And he pushed her. Emma would be exhausted during their practice duels but he would always demand more, like he knew she was capable of more than even she believed of herself. He unnerved her in more ways than one and she often thought how she would hate to have to cross swords with him in a real duel.

_“You’re too distracted, Swan.” The steel clashed and Hook’s cutlass formed an X with her short sword. With a grim smile, he stepped forward, narrowing the space between their bodies and leaving her no room to pull her blade free. Emma grit her teeth in frustration; she was trying, damn it, but she knew her form was embarrassingly sloppy today. “You have to keep your eyes on the prize.”_

_Before she could realize his intention, she felt something slip around her calf. He grinned wickedly at her surprised expression before pulling up. She struggled in vain to balance before falling to the ground, landing on her back; apparently, he had snagged her right leg with his hook to destabilize her. In an effort to gain some space so she could stand, Emma swung her sword over her body. Instead of forcing him back, though, he simply caught her blade as it swung by and pulled it towards his hook, effectively trapping the steel. With one of his characteristic smirks, he slowly began to slide down the length of her sword; the innuendo was clear._

_“Normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” He was crouched over her, swords pressed to the side. “But this is a pleasantly stimulating alternative for now.”_

_Well, if she wasn’t distracted before…_

_“A bit of advice, though – when I jab you with my sword, you’ll feel it.”_

_Oh, god._

_“Ready to give up, love?”_

Despite her initial contempt towards the smaller blade, Emma had grown to enjoy wielding the short sword much more than the long sword her father had tried to teach her with as a child. Its shorter blade meant less strain on her arms and shoulders as she fought, giving her greater stamina, and its lighter weight meant she could move faster, could move it faster. Under Hook’s instruction, she learned of ways to take advantage of both her shorter stature and the shorter blade. Where she once thought that a longer sword would be a distinct advantage, now she wasn’t quite so sure.

_Hook had obtained a long sword from god knows where; she knew it didn’t belong to him or any of his crew. It was extended out, sharp point aimed at her chest._

_“Odds are, any opponent you’re up against will be bigger than you – and most likely have a larger sword.”_

_“Well isn’t that comforting…”_

_He silenced her with a look. “But while they attempt to intimidate you with size and slice you in half with clumsy strokes, you’ll be able to sneak in and catch them by surprise.”_

_“And how, exactly, am I supposed to sneak in?”_

_“You’re small – well, relatively small – and you’re smart. All you have to do is find an opening and squeeze in to make your move. Let’s practice, shall we?”_

_Without warning, the long sword whipped through the air, slicing at her body; Emma leaped back to prevent the sword from cutting a nice long gash in her stomach._

_“Bloody hell, Hook! A little warning, maybe?” But he wasn’t playing with her; he was teaching._

_“You think someone’s going to let you know when they’re about to attack?” He swung the sword up and over, forcing her to roll to the right as the sword crashed to the ground where she’d been standing moments before. “Ambushing someone for a quick kill is a whole hell of a lot easier than drawing it out in a fight.” He pulled the sword to the side before swinging it across his body towards her once more._

_That’s when she noticed it._

_He was slower – maybe not much slower, but slower nonetheless. Emma dodged again, circling a couple steps more to her right. He had been right; the long, heavy blade was weighing him down and making his movements considerably less sharp than she was used to. She leaped back as he dropped the sword down for her again and used the time, miniscule though it was, to look for an opening and make a plan. The sword whistled through the air and she ducked, letting the blade pass harmlessly over her head._

_There._

_With the long sword still in motion after Hook’s forceful swing, Emma saw the opening. Taking a quick step forward and still in a crouch, she pressed the point of her short sword to his stomach. She stared down the length of her blade, shocked at how instinctively she’d reacted to the opening he’d given her. Adrenaline was pumping through her body and she couldn’t hear much except for the rush of blood in her head._

_“Well done, love.”_

_She glanced up at him. He looked pleased._

Not all of their time together was focused on swordplay, though. It was inevitable for them to have downtime to talk, something that Emma both enjoyed and dreaded. Getting to know Hook was dangerous; she could feel herself naturally gravitate towards him, but it was extremely hard to wrap her mind around the concept of trusting him. And the more time they spent together and got to know each other, the more difficult it became.

They’d had their fair share of getting-to-know-each-other moments over their time together, but there were always things held back. They had a sort of unspoken agreement not to pry if information was not willingly supplied. He’d explained to her much about his young life and his early time aboard his ship but had deliberately left a large gap in the recent years. Emma was the exact opposite; she’d willingly explained much of her life from twelve years old and on but had obviously steered clear of her life pre-Tortuga.

Every once in a while, though, there were moments that gave her a deeper glimpse into the man that was Captain Hook.

_The clouds drifted lazily overhead, the sun was warm, and the slight breeze off the ocean had kept the day from growing too warm. Emma felt delightfully relaxed after the afternoon they’d spent sparring. She was lying on her back near the cliff’s edge listening to the sound of the surf crashing on the rocks below while Hook sat a couple feet to her left, leaning against a boulder, with his eyes closed. Any normal person would assume him to be asleep but she knew better; Hook wasn’t the type of person to let his guard down too readily around others._

_They were kindred spirits in that respect._

_Almost of their own accord, Emma’s eyes drifted to his calm form. Pirate or not, he really was one of, if not the most, handsome man she’d ever met. Ruby frequently seconded that opinion, often following up with what was apparently one of her new favorite questions for Emma – why hadn’t she slept with him yet? Emma’s constant reply that she just wasn’t interested was always rebuffed with a loud exclamation of ‘bullshit!’ In truth, she knew why she resisted Hook; she just wasn’t willing to admit it yet. He, of course, made no attempt to hide his interest, but at the same time, never pushed farther than she was willing to humor him. It was a delicate balance._

_She continued to stare at him and her eyes were drawn to the splash of color on his forearm. It was a tattoo – the name Milah within a heart pierced by a dagger. She’d noticed it soon after meeting him, but when it never came up in their conversations, she’d figured it was one of the things he was unwilling to discuss._

_“Penny for your thoughts?”_

_The sudden break in the silence brought Emma back to reality with a start; she raised her eyes quickly, expecting to be caught looking at him but his eyes were still closed. She got the distinct feeling, though, that he knew she’d been staring. Brushing an errant strand of hair from her face, she returned her gaze to the clouds._

_“Not really thinking too much about anything…”_

_“I’ve come to know you pretty well, love, and you’ve been too quiet; there must be something on your mind.”_

_He could read her so well. She shouldn’t say it, though. Told herself not to ask. She just knew that the words would shift the comfortable dynamic they’d created for themselves, but the words came out unbidden._

_“Who’s Milah?”_

_He was quiet for a moment and Emma thought he might just ignore her question altogether. “Someone I knew long ago.” His voice came out as a soft whisper._

_“What happened to her?” Emma knew that she was straying into dangerous territory, that this conversation had moved far outside of their norm. Feeling slightly panicked, she tried to backtrack. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I understand.”_

_“She died.”_

_The undercurrent in Hook’s voice made her heart feel like it would break, the heaviness of those two simple words like a weight on her chest. “I’m sorry… you must have cared for her very much.” Hook opened his eyes then but didn’t meet hers; he just stared out at the ocean._

_“I loved her.”_

_There was so much more beneath his enigmatic personality than she had ever thought possible._

_“And what of your secrets, love?”_

_Emma knew what he was wanting. She had broken their understood agreement – she’d asked him something incredibly personal and now the scales were tipped in her favor. He wanted her to tell him something of equal weight and importance._

_“I ran away from home when I was twelve. That’s how I ended up in Tortuga.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I couldn’t stay with my family. They had my entire life planned out for me… I couldn’t accept that I wasn’t in control of my own future.”_

_“I can respect that.” He paused. “You weren’t afraid?”_

_Emma smiled grimly. “I was terrified.” She remembered how scared she’d been those first few years, how she would experience crippling moments of panic or wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by a sweat-inducing fear. “But every time I thought about going back, I remembered a story I’d read when I was young about a girl that wanted to be a mermaid. People would ask her why she would want such a thing and she would tell them it was because she had no fear of the depths but a great fear of shallow living.” She paused, remembering how helpless she’d felt growing up, and the next part came out in a low, pained voice. “You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning.”_

_Their two confessions were intimate and Emma could feel their relationship changing in the long silence that filled the space between them. After several moments, Emma felt the brush of fingers through her hair; Hook had moved from his place against the boulder to sit closer to her without her even noticing. She stared up at him as he slid his fingers slowly through her hair over and over. Never breaking eye contact, she reached out to touch her hand lightly to his bent leg. They stayed that way for quite some time, neither of them broaching the silence._

Emma glanced towards one wall of the trees, just able to make out the glittering ocean over the cliff’s edge. If Hook’s routine remained as it had in the past, he should have sailed in to Tortuga almost a month ago. It had become a predictable pattern; every three weeks or so he would come to Tortuga for a few days, instructing her in swordplay during the day and generally making a scene by harassing her in the bar at night. That’s how it had been for almost a year and a half. Emma paused and counted the months off in her head, shocked at how the time had flown. She’d first met Hook when she was only a few days shy of turning twenty-seven; now she was twenty-eight and a half.

She’d changed a lot over that time. Her body had grown leaner from the swordplay, her muscles more developed. She was lighter on her feet and even Ruby had mentioned that she had a different sort of look about her now. Confident, the brunette had said – more dangerous.

Emma liked it.

She leaned against one of the tall oaks at the edge of the clearing; from this spot, she had an unobstructed view of the ocean. Her eyes gazed out over the water and she tried to convince herself that she was simply admiring the view and not searching the blue expanse for anything in particular.

_Hook had disarmed her, her blade now lying several feet from where they stood. She smiled at him and held her hands up in a show of surrender, watching as he relaxed his stance with a smug grin at what he thought was her admission of defeat – perfect. With a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a yell, Emma leaped towards him. Unprepared for the unusual attack, Hook dropped his sword and made a grab for her, stumbling with her added weight before falling to the ground._

_Emma landed mostly on top of him, her body crossing his torso. Hook’s arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled in an attempt to pin her down beneath him, but Emma just rolled with him. She forced him onto his back and straddled his hips to pin him down. Their arms flailed for a second, each trying to gain the upper hand, before she managed to grab both of his forearms and slam them to the ground above his head._

_“Gotcha!” Her exclamation was triumphant. But then he became very still and she noticed a severe look in his eyes; there was something behind the striking blue that was distinctly darker, hungering. Then she realized the position they were in. Hook was sprawled out on his back, legs slightly askew, with his arms pinned above his head; Emma was straddling him, leaning forward over his body to hold his arms, with her face inches from his._

_Oh._

_His body was deadly still, eyes trained on hers. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know whether to maintain this standoff and keep the contact or release his arms, leaving him free to do… other things. His head lifted from the ground towards hers, his gaze locked on her lips._

_“Emma…”_

_Hook didn’t use her first name very often, usually opting for his pet names instead, so the sound of him saying it – in a hoarse whisper, no less – combined with his movement made her jump. She released his arms and sat up quickly but made not move to get off. Hook’s hooded eyes burned into hers as his right hand wandered down to rest against her hip while his hook curled around the outside of her right thigh._

_When had she started breathing so heavily?_

_And why couldn’t she stop looking at him??_

_And why the hell was she still sitting on him???_

_Hook shifted his legs almost imperceptibly, the movement causing friction at the place their bodies were so intimately touching. This was so very wrong… but it felt so very right. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own – she never told it to move – and he pulled down on her hips to press her more firmly against him. She couldn’t quite stop the breathy gasp at the contact, a searing heat burning through her body._

_“Gods, Emma.”_

_Hook all but growled it out, pulling himself into a seated position, his hand coming up to grasp around the back of her neck, drawing her face towards his. Panicked, Emma jerked her head back at the last second – how had everything escalated so god damned fast? Hook didn’t release her but he stopped, his eyes flashing to hers. She wanted this – god, she wanted him to kiss her – but she couldn’t do this. All the time they spent together was already doing a number on her resolve; she knew kissing him would send her over the edge and she couldn’t risk that happening. Not with a pirate. Not with Hook._

_He must have been able to see the alarm she was experiencing because he relaxed. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned forward to whisper to her. The breath that ghosted across her ear made a shiver skitter up her back._

_“You owe me a kiss, love.” Damn, she’d almost forgotten about that. “What if I want it now?”_

_Emma swallowed hard._

_“Do you?”_

_He dropped his hand to let his fingers run softly over the exposed skin on her upper arm; his hooked hand was curled around her back, keeping her straddling his lap. She felt hyper- sensitized to his touch. After a moment, he pulled back to catch her eyes._

_“No.” A teasing look flashed across his face. “Not yet.”_

That particularly interesting skirmish had been their last before he left almost two months ago.

Two months…

It was the longest he’d ever gone without coming to visit her. Visit Tortuga, her mind automatically corrected. Emma tried not to worry, tried not to let his continued absence bother her, but it wasn’t easy, despite Ruby’s continual attempts at distracting her.

The clearing was getting dark. Emma glanced up to the sky in surprise to realize that the late afternoon had shifted into twilight without her noticing and that she would be late for work if she didn’t high-tail it back to the inn. In her hurry through town, she nearly ran into two women.

“Emma, you’re in an awful big rush. Late for work?” The two women were dressed in garish outfits that only belonged in the brothels on the edge of town.

“I’m so sorry – yes, I didn’t even realize how late it was.”

“Did you see the ship in the harbor? Everyone’s been talking about it.” The second woman spoke now and Emma felt annoyed; she’d just said she was running late for work…

“Can’t say I have. I’m sorry but I really need to…”

“What about the captain?” The lady ignored Emma and fanned herself dramatically. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone so captivating and handsome; I do hope he visits our brothel while he’s in town. If you see him, be sure to send him our way!”

Emma had a sneaking suspicion she knew who they were talking about but didn’t want to get her hopes up in the event she was wrong. If it wasn’t him, oh well; if it was… well, she was sure she’d see him that evening at the bar. Bidding the two women farewell, she continued towards the inn; at her rate, she would get there just in time for them to open. Ruby would most likely give her a hard time, having been responsible for setting everything up ahead of time, but Emma would find some way to make it up to her. Lost in thought, Emma didn’t even notice the cloaked man creep from the shadows of the nearby alley and come up behind her.

At least, not until she felt the searing pain of a knife being jabbed to the hilt in her side.

She’d never felt pain like that. It was red-hot and white-cold all at the same time and she was sure that no lesson could’ve properly prepared her for that kind of hurt.

Emma gasped, swiftly turning around to face her attacker. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hood, but she could see the faint light reflecting on his teeth that were bared in a deadly smile. There was no time for confusion or hesitation. Without thinking, Emma drew her short sword and engaged her foe. No longer was she fighting an imaginary opponent or an instructive Hook – this was a very real threat that had already inflicted a very real injury – and a rush of adrenaline gave her strength to focus through the pain.

The man attempted to fight back, but she knocked the dagger from his hand. Not even pausing to think, she advanced. Emma knew she would never forget the feeling of that moment as long as she lived, couldn’t even if she tried. She could feel the blade slide through his skin, felt it cleave through his organs and sever his spine on the other side. It was disturbing but also satisfying. This man had attacked her – he’d _hurt_ her – and she felt triumphant as her sword slid from his stomach and he collapsed to the ground.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Emma held the edge of her sword to his neck, trying to ignore the wetness she could feel soaking her top and running down her side.

“I’m just a messenger.” He laughed but it was a thick gurgling sound due to the blood in his throat. Her blow had been a fatal one. “You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall.”

Emma felt her blood run cold.

Die?

Princess?

Someone wanted her dead, someone that knew who she was… but how? Why?

“Who sent you?” He stared at her grimly, silent. She shook him roughly, the pain causing him to make a strangled sound. “I said who sent you?”

“You have to die. You have to die so she can live.”

“Tell me who!”

But her attacker died before he could answer, his eyes glazing over with death; Emma released her grip on his cloak, letting his body fall to the ground. She staggered to her feet, returning her trusty sword to its sheath. What the hell was going on? Who would want her dead? And how had someone found her after all these years? With a deep breath, she looked at her wound. The knife had been small, but it had done its work well; the man had jabbed it into the soft part of her side directly beneath her ribs. She could see the ragged edges and watched the blood from the wound soak into her blouse, which now stuck to her skin. She would live, but she still needed help.

_“You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall.”_

Her stomach twisted anxiously. She should go to the inn, get Ruby and August to help, but then she found herself stumbling down the road towards the docks. The ladies had mentioned a captivating and handsome pirate captain… if he was there… if Hook was in town. She had no idea what he could do for her that Ruby or August couldn’t, but she still found herself walking unsteadily in his direction.

It was there. His ship was there.

Her legs weren’t cooperating in the least anymore; they seemed to wriggle like jello beneath her, like they couldn’t support her weight. Blood dripped from between the fingers of the hand she had clamped against her wound as she stumbled down the dock and onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. A group of men on board jumped to their feet at her sudden arrival.

“I need to see Hook – the Captain – immediately.” Emma wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand here. Her fingers were beginning to tingle and go numb, the cold sensation slowly working its way through her hands to travel up her arms. She no longer felt so confident she’d live and had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the dagger than met the eye. If only she’d thought to grab it before she’d left…

A hulking crewmember leered at her. “Lass, if it’s company you desire, we’ll be more than happy to help.”

Over Hook’s many trips to the bar to visit her, Emma had gotten the chance to meet most of his crew; however, the ability to go into towns when they made port was a privilege only granted to the more senior members of the crew. The others always had to remain and guard the ship. Therefore, Emma had not had the opportunity to meet these men that were in front of her now.

“Please, I need to speak with him now!”

Another man came to stand by the first one. “Anything that needs to be said to the cap’n goes through us first.”

Angry, scared, and in pain, Emma drew her short sword and brandished it at the men in front of her. Immediately, several of them drew blades of their own.

“I don’t have time for this!” She was yelling now. “Where is Hook?”

“What the hell is going on here?” Emma’s eyes shot towards the familiar voice. The group of men jumped and separated to reveal their captain, angry from all the commotion. He stalked forward, glaring at his men before noticing her.

“Swan?”

“Hook…” The relief hit her at once and it felt like all her muscles stopped working. Her sword clattered to the deck and the hand that had been pressed to her wound fell to her side.

“What are you doing here?”

Her vision was starting to dim, the darkness at the edges of her sight creeping in.

“Captain, she’s bleeding!”

Her body was almost completely numb; she couldn’t even feel the sharp pain of the wound anymore.

“What the hell – Swan, what’s going on? What happened?”

She dropped to the deck as her legs collapsed.

“Talk to me, love.”

Hook’s arm was around her shoulders and his hand was warm against her face but she couldn’t speak.

“Emma…”

Then it was dark.


	4. An Undertaking and A Choice

_“I go to seek a great perhaps.”_

* * *

Emma had never felt like such an idiot. She was standing on a raised platform in front of a tri-fold mirror dressed to the nines in an elaborate dress that she could barely breathe in. The seamstress scurried in circles around Emma, poking and prodding and pinning while her mother smiled on in the background.

The dress was beautiful. Floor length with delicate straps and tasteful beading on the shimmering silk, it was a sage green creation that everyone said would look wonderful in contrast with her fair skin and blonde hair. And of course, they were all correct. She was to wear this dress tomorrow evening.

Not only was tomorrow the night of the biggest, most extravagant ball the kingdoms had seen in quite some time, it was also her twelfth birthday. Her parents had planned the ball to celebrate her coming of age, so to speak; it was to be an introduction of her to the world. A whole evening dedicated solely to celebrating her.

Emma felt awkward already.

“Sweetheart, don’t frown. It’ll give you wrinkles.”

She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her. “Mom, why do I have to do this, again?”

“Because as of tomorrow you are officially a young lady and there’s no better way to celebrate than with a ball. Oh, Emma, you’re going to have the best time. You’ll look like an absolute angel in that dress, every eye in the room will be on you. And there will plenty of handsome young princes to dance with.”

Emma was less than thrilled. If there were anything worse than having to be paraded around in front of everyone in the kingdom, it would be her having to dance with all the princes in the realm in front of everyone in the kingdom. The uncomfortable embraces, the inevitable stepping on toes, the sweaty handgrips. Yes, true love in the making.

“Excuse me, milady.” The seamstress’ soft words drew her mother’s gaze. “If you are satisfied with the gown…”

“Oh yes, Grace. Let’s go ahead and get Emma out of it so you can work your magic.” With the help of the two older women, Emma was able to shimmy her way out of the dress. “The dress truly is exquisite. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect and lovely piece.”

The palace seamstress blushed under the praise. “Thank you, your majesty.”

The rest of the day and most of the next passed in a blur of colors, music, fabrics, and instructions. Her mother busied herself with overseeing all of the last minute details of the ball, answering questions regarding things that Emma didn’t even realize where even an issue. Lilies versus tulips; tapered candles versus votive candles; organza table coverings versus lace. All of the inquiries seemed so inconsequential. Did anyone truly care whether the tables were decorated with one larger centerpiece or balanced out with two smaller ones?

In the few moments that she wasn’t preoccupied, Emma’s mother shadowed her every move, following her from place to place and reminding her of simple things when they came to mind.

“Don’t forget to curtsy when you’re introduced to someone – remember to keep your eyes over his shoulder when he dances with you; don’t look down at your feet – be sure to greet everyone in attendance; it would be simply horrible to forget someone and then they think us rude.”

Before she knew it, she was being told to dress for the ball. Her mother deposited Emma in her room before departing for her own to get ready. The platform and tri-fold mirror had been moved into one of the corners and Grace stood meekly beside it, waiting to assist her.

Grace was a sweet girl, someone that Emma always wished she’d had more of a chance to get to know. She was dainty with light brown hair, a smattering of freckles, expressive eyes, and plump lips. She wasn’t too much older than Emma, but the difference in their social standings prevented them from associating more than when the seamstress’ services were needed. Grace was the daughter of one of the royal archers, Jefferson, and while his was an honorable profession, it was nowhere near a royal family.

“Are you ready, Princess?”

With a quiet sigh, Emma dropped her casual, everyday dress and stepped onto the platform. Grace pulled the elegant gown from its hanger and held it out for Emma to step into. With a hand on the girl’s shoulder so as not to fall, Emma stepped into the dress and pulled the straps over her shoulder. As Grace moved behind her and began to lace up the back of the gown, Emma touched her fingers lightly to the delicate beading that adorned the front. Her mother was right; the dress really was exquisite. Then again, Grace never produced anything less than outstanding work.

“Princess, you look absolutely breathtaking.”

She’d never been one to indulge and take pleasure from staring at herself in mirrors, but she couldn’t help but admit that she looked pretty. Her hair had been styled in a simple chignon, the sweetheart neckline of the dress was perfect for showcasing the simple pendant that hung around her neck, and a coordinating bracelet decorated her wrist.

Emma felt the sudden very girly urge to twirl in a circle but resisted, opting to twist a few times so she could watch the dress flow back and forth instead.

“Oh, Emma!” She turned quickly at the sound of her mother’s exclamation. She stood in the doorway in a deep purple one-shouldered gown and Emma was sure that she’d never seen her look more beautiful in her life. Her father hadn’t stood a chance – one look at her and anyone would be a goner. Her mother came forward and embraced her lightly and Emma could tell how happy she was in that moment.

“Here’s a little something just for you.” She moved to stand behind her, their eyes connecting in the mirror. She was holding a delicate silver hairpin encrusted with small diamonds. “My mother gave me this when I attended my first real ball and now I want you to have it.” Her mother tucked the pin gently into the side of Emma’s chignon, smoothing down a few errant hairs.

Emma’s father came to collect them, and before she knew it, they were in the ballroom and her mother was ushering her around, introducing her to a flurry of guests. There were so many people; faces blended together, their names forgotten as soon as she heard them.

“Emma, darling, this is Prince Phillip.” This was the fourth prince she’d been introduced to so far this evening. He was handsome enough, but he had a nervous smile and slightly watery eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phillip.” Seeing her mother still watching her, Emma gave Phillip a tiny curtsey.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Princess.” He bowed and snagged her fingertips, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. A perfect little gentleman – his parents must have taught him well.

The evening dragged on and Emma wondered if her parents had managed to find a way to slow time for the evening. The only way to keep her sanity was to sneak out to the veranda every once in a while. With so many people talking and dancing, the ballroom felt stuffy, so the cooler outside air was a refreshing. She took a deep breath, leaning against the railing, and looked out over the gardens; her reprieve, however, was short lived.

“There you are!” Busted. “Come on inside, people can’t meet you if you’re hiding out here.” Her mother dragged her back to the stuffy heat of the ballroom. “Oh, there’s Prince Phillip – why don’t you go dance with him, sweetheart.”

“Can’t I just visit with Cinderella? I haven’t seen her in ages.” She was immensely tired of dancing. Also, she believed her feet were completely ruined from Prince Adam stepping on them so much in an earlier waltz. It would be far more relaxing to sit and talk with one of the few friends she had that were in attendance.

“No, it’s time for a dance. Go on.”

“How about Prince Eric? Or Naveen?”

“No, I think Phillip will do just nicely. Now go.” Her mother gave her a slight push towards the dance floor.

“Why do I have to dance with him again?” Emma had already danced with him three times, which was far more than any of the other princes. “There are plenty of other guests.”

“Emma, you will stop this and go accept a dance with him this instant.”

“But why?”

“Because he is your betrothed!”

All of the lights seemed glaringly bright and it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Betrothed? She couldn’t breathe, just stared in horror at her mother. Emma finally understood why her mother had been insisting on so many dances with the young prince.

“But… but I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone!”

“Emma, you’re only twelve; it’s not like you’ll be getting married tomorrow. The marriage isn’t planned until your eighteenth birthday.” Emma couldn’t find the words to speak; her brain and her mouth refused to connect. “And you can’t say you don’t want to marry him, you barely know the boy. He is a wonderful young man whose parents are very excited at the prospect of your engagement. You’ll be spending plenty of time together in the years to come and I’m sure the more you get to know him, the more you’ll like him.”

But Emma didn’t want to get to know him. How could she grow to like – to love – someone knowing that the whole situation was forced, that it was the product of someone else’s plans?

“After all your stories about how much you and Dad went through to be together, you would force me to marry someone I didn’t love?”

“Love can take some time to develop, sweetheart.”

“Yes, and it can also happen in an instant – or at least that’s what you’ve told me.”

Her mother refused to respond to the statement, just stared her down with a stern look. Emma felt the betrayal well up inside her and manifest itself in the form of anger.

“I can’t take this! You plan everything for me; my whole future is like one big, strategic chess match and I don’t even get a say in it. I don’t want to grow up and be a queen, I don’t want to run a kingdom, I don’t want to marry Phillip or Eric or anyone else here, and I don’t want to be your perfect little princess!”

The slap stung.

Emma brought her hand to her cheek, sure that it was flushed from both the slap and her prior anger. Her mother’s face was twisted in a shocked expression; she’d never laid a hand on Emma in her life. The slap hadn’t been hard, not even enough to turn Emma’s head, but it was the emotion behind it that truly stung.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know… I can’t believe…” Her mother took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I know that you don’t agree with many of the things your father and I have planned for you, but we know what’s best. You’ll thank us one day.”

But Emma knew she wouldn’t.

Her mother reached forward to pull her into an embrace, but Emma pulled away from her outstretched arms. Shaking her head and fighting the tears she could feel burning in her eyes, she ran down the hallway to her bedroom. Slamming the door, she threw herself onto the bed. She hated crying, hated the way it made her feel, but she couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Her mother’s rise to the throne had been one full of adventure and romance. Snow had been constantly on the run from the Evil Queen, always trying to stay one step ahead, and had met Charming by chance in an attempted robbery that turned into one of the greatest tales of true love in the whole realm. That spontaneous, never planned, one-day-to-the-next kind of life was something Emma wanted to experience. The feeling of never knowing what’s going to happen next, of being able to fall in love with someone you’d never expect.

But everything was out of her control here in the castle. Her parents wouldn’t listen, didn’t care about her hopes and dreams. They’d been living in times of relative peace for so long that the thrill for adventure had long left their hearts, which also prevented them from seeing that yearning that burned in Emma’s. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she spied her travel bag stuffed in the corner against her dresser.

_Run away…_

The words floated around the room as if the walls themselves whispered them to her, as if they knew of the sorrow and discontent she felt nearly every day within its confines. The stars above her head twinkled, calling to her to see them with her own eyes instead of through an enchanted ceiling.

Could she really do it?

 _Would_ she do it?

Thus far, her life had consisted of people making her decisions for her; the biggest choice she’d ever had to make was which pony she would like to take for herself from the city’s breeder. This was so much bigger than that.

But if she were caught… if her parents ended up finding her…

No, she wouldn’t get caught. She’d had a plan for years of how to get away and an idea of where she could go.

_Run away…_

The words lit a fire deep in her chest and she jumped from the bed, moving with purpose. She ripped the dress off and pulled her hair free from its updo, the diamond hairpin falling to the floor. She started to reach for it but then turned to the closet and dressed in her most comfortable pair of trousers and shirt instead. She’d have no need for elegant hairpins where she was going.

Grabbing her bag, she began to stuff it full of outfits that would be helpful on her journey and with a sharp movement, broke her piggy bank and stuffed the money she’d saved over the past few years into the bag. Moving hurriedly, she grabbed her bow and arrows from the corner and a piece of parchment before padding quietly down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. There, she told them goodbye.

_Dearest Mother and Father,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I’m sorry because I know how much this will hurt all of us, but it is something I need to do._

_I remember the stories you both would tell me before I went to sleep at night – tales full of adventure and romance. I fell in love with those stories and have spent my entire life wishing for one of my own. I can’t bear the thought of never getting the opportunity. I need to be free to live my own life; free to make my own mistakes and experience my own victories; free to fall in love with whomever I choose._

_I would ask you not to look for me, but I know that you will. You will not find me, but please know that I will be safe. You both raised me with the knowledge of how to take care of myself and now I go to put it to use._

_I love you both so much and I hope you can find a way to forgive me someday. Know that wherever I am, I will always think of you both. Mother – look up at the stars and know that, wherever I may be, I do the same and think of you. Father – shoot your bow and know that I carry mine with me, a piece of you always by my side to protect me._

_Love always and forever,_

_Emma_

Tears stung in her eyes. This was so hard, but her words in the letter were true – if she stayed here she would surely drown. She would wither away until there was nothing left of her except the bitter shell of a woman that used to be full of hopes and dreams. Emma folded and sealed the letter, pressing a kiss to the note before laying it on her parents’ chaise lounge. They would not find it until the following morning, by which time she would be long gone.

Emma grabbed her small pack and left the castle. Most everyone in the palace was attending the party and those who weren’t were so relaxed and at ease that it was easy for her to slip out. She made her way to the docks; the plan was to barter her way onto a trading ship and then go as far as they could take her. Her heart felt heavy with sadness but she didn’t pause to give a last look at the palace she’d grown up in, was born and raised in.

She never looked back.

* * *

When Emma came to, the first thing she thought was that she was never drinking again. Ever. This was by far the worst hangover that she’d ever experienced. Then she remembered that she hadn’t had anything to drink the night before.

And that she’d been stabbed.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly that the blood rush to her head caused her vision to go black for a few seconds. When it cleared, she looked at her surroundings. She was in a bed in some type of cabin; there was an armoire, a large wooden desk strewn with maps at the other end of the room, shelves filled with books, a small sofa, and floor to ceiling windows along the opposite wall that showed a clear blue sky. Looking down at her body, Emma noticed that she was still wearing the same grungy clothes from the day before, the side of her shirt stiff with the dried blood. Curious, she lifted up her blouse to inspect the wound and found that it had been bandaged.

Where the hell was she? She closed her eyes, trying to place the events of the prior night in order but couldn’t focus beyond the slight panic she felt at not knowing what was going on in the here and now. With a frustrated groan, she flopped back down onto the bed.

“Most women don’t make such unpleasant noises while in my bed.”

Emma hadn’t even heard the door open, but there he stood. Hook.

“Your bed?”

“Aye.”

Breathe, Emma… long, deep breaths. She glanced again to the sunlight streaming through the windows; it had been night when she arrived here.

“How long was I out?”

“About fourteen hours now.” He moved to lean against the desk. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

After sleeping for fourteen hours, her head shouldn’t be pounding the way it was anymore. But then again, she hadn’t just been sleeping. She could distinctly remember passing out from the strange effects of the knife. Not exactly a formula for a restful night’s sleep, no matter how comfortable Hook’s bed might be. Speaking of beds…

“So if I’m in your bed, then I guess I’m on…”

“The Jolly Roger.” He finished the hesitant sentence for her with a smile that quickly faded. When she’d felt movement earlier, she’d just attributed it to her headache. Now that she was aware of where she was, she noticed the slight swaying motion again and recognized it for what it was – a telltale sign of being on the water. “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from a headache, surprisingly well.” The prior evening all blurred together in her mind, a dizzying rush of color. “Can you fill me in as to how I came to be in your bed?”

He chuckled, probably thinking along the same lines as her – that her being in his bed was the least important issue at hand. “How about you fill me in as to how you came to be aboard my ship covered in blood?”

How exactly _had_ that happened? Focus… she sat up in the bed again, resting her back against the wall behind her. Hook pulled the chair from behind the desk, dragging it across the room to sit beside her.

“I was in the clearing; I’d been practicing yesterday afternoon.” She left out that she’d also been thinking about him – a lot. “I realized that it was getting late and I needed to get to work, so I grabbed my stuff and was almost to the inn when this man came up behind me. I have no idea where he came from or who he was; he was wearing a black cloak, though, so he obviously didn’t want to be seen. I wasn’t even paying attention when I felt him stab me.”

Emma had been staring down at her hands clasped in her lap. When she ventured a look at him, she was surprised by the outright fury she could see in the tense clenching of his jaw, the stormy expression in his eyes. He refused to look at her, though.

“Lay down, I need to change your bandages.”

She did as she was told and he reached forward to push her blouse up to her ribcage, exposing the wound. Using his hook, he sliced through the current wrappings, casually throwing them to the floor. Emma glanced down at the injury; it was a small hole, but there was an unsettling black color that spread out from the wound with her veins.

“Did he escape after stabbing you?”

She looked away from the wound and back to Hook. He had pulled a new set of wraps from somewhere and was slowly unrolling it. When he reached forward to start bandaging, his hand brushed against the bare skin of her stomach, causing it to twitch faintly in response. Under different circumstances, the position they were in – her shirt hiked up and him gently touching her bare skin – might have led to a very different outcome.

“No, I killed him… I stabbed him.” His eyes shot to hers for a second before returning to the work at hand. He’d slid his hook under her, the flat part of the appendage pressing into her and forcing her to arch her back; with his other hand, he began to loop the wrappings tightly around her body. He was surprisingly adept at the task for having only one hand.

“I remember how _angry_ I felt.” She recalled the flash of rage she’d experienced as the knife had slid into her body. “I was mad at him for hurting me and mad at myself that I hadn’t been paying enough attention to stop him sooner. I didn’t even think; I just responded.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do, love. What I’ve been trying to teach you.” He was staring at her with an unreadable expression, but if she had to guess it was a mixture of pride and concern. “Could it have been a random attack?”

_“You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall.”_

“No.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Emma hesitated. To tell him any part of what made her sure that she’d been intentionally targeted would be to tell him about her past. Could she do that? Could she trust him with the truth of her heritage? Only Ruby knew of her past and, even then, she’d only told her because it had been necessary; that situation hadn’t exactly been planned. No, she couldn’t tell him… not yet.

“I just know.”

He gave her a sharp look but didn’t press her. “You said you were close to the inn… what made you come all the way to the docks?” He wanted to know why she’d dragged herself halfway across town when her friends were much closer.

“Some women were talking, they said that there was a handsome pirate captain in town and I had a feeling it was you they were talking about.” His anger was quickly replaced by one of his trademark smirks. “Oh no, don’t even look at me like that – those were their words not mine so don’t go getting any ideas.” She had to give him credit as he at least attempted to stifle the grin.

“Still doesn’t explain why you came to me instead of your friends, love.”

Emma frowned. She couldn’t explain that because she’d wondered the same thing at the time.

“I honestly don’t know why. I tried to tell myself to go to the inn, but I just kept walking towards the docks. It was like my brain was disconnected from my body or something.”

“Hmm…” It was a noncommittal sound that Emma couldn’t read. “Here, tie this.” He’d finished changing her bandages and now gave her the end of the wrapping to tie off. Once finished, she sat up and smoothed her shirt back down, sparing a glance once more for her dirty clothes. She needed a shower and a change of clothes desperately – she felt disgusting – but all her clothes were back at the inn… the inn!

“Oh my god, Ruby’s probably freaking out… and August too. I have to go; I need to let them know everything’s ok.” Emma threw the covers off her legs and stood up, but the room swayed and her legs felt like they’d collapse as they had the night before. Hook put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Damn legs… I can’t even walk properly.”

“Yes, well, most ladies do go weak at the knees after spending a night in my bed.”

“Oh please…” She brushed his hand away and tried to blow him off. “I have to go talk to them. They’re probably worried sick.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult, love.”

She didn’t like the look on his face. “And why’s that?”

“We’ve left Tortuga.”

“We… left? As in we’re not in the port anymore?”

He shook his head at her confused questions. “We left last night after you fainted.”

“Damn it, Hook! You know that’s considered kidnapping, right? You can’t just take people without their permission. Do you have any idea how worried everyone will be about me? Ruby is going to kill you.”

“In case you don’t remember, love, a man tried to kill you. Not just a random attack on a helpless lass – he was after _you_ , tried to kill _you_. Obviously, someone in Tortuga wanted you dead bad enough to resort to desperate measures and I, for one, wasn’t willing to sit around and wait for them to return and finish the job when they discovered you had survived.” He took a deep breath. They’d had somber conversations in the past, but Emma had never heard him speak so intensely to her before, with such obvious emotion. “I sent a note to your friend before we left explaining what little I knew of what happened.”

Emma was relieved that at least Ruby would have some knowledge of what happened instead of thinking that she’d just been abducted or killed. Something about what Hook said, though, pressed at the back of Emma’s mind, bothering her. Why was stabbing her considered desperate measures? That seemed a fairly routine way of assassinating someone. Unless…

“Why did the wound look the way it did, with the dark lines coming from it?” Emma could feel her stomach drop at the pained look on his face. “Hook?”

“It was cursed. The blade he used to stab you was filled with dark magic.”

The words were like a punch to her stomach and she had to put a hand against the cabin wall to steady herself. Dark magic was a terrible thing; she could remember her parents telling her about it as a child, about the horrible things it could do, the horrible ways it could corrupt a person’s mind.

“What’s going on, then? How am I alive?”

“By all intents and purposes you should be dead; the magic should have killed you within an hour. Thankfully, I had something on hand that stalled the curse. It didn’t cure it by any means, just delayed the inevitable.”

“So I’ll still die?”

“If the wound goes untreated, yes.”

Outstanding.

“How long do I have?”

“A few days, a week at the very most.” It was a staggering thought, to know you were only days from death. The expression on his face was unreadable and she exhaled heavily, the breath coming out shaky from the weight of the revelation. “You need help, love – more help than I can give.”

Thoughts raced through Emma’s mind. The Blue Fairy was the only person she could think of that might be able to cure her, but that would involve returning home.

“I know of someone that _can_ help, though, but it would take quite a bit of effort to get to where she lives. And it would be dangerous – extremely dangerous.”

“Well I’d prefer to live, given the choice.” Apparently, finding out how close she was to death had given her a new sarcastic streak.

His lips twitched at her comment. “Yes, I’d prefer you live also.” He paused. “She lives in Neverland.”

As a child, Emma had heard numerous tales about the wonders of Neverland. It was a land where imagination ran wild, where adventures and dangers waited in mermaid-filled lagoons and Indian-inhabited plains, where one would never grow old. But that’s all she’d believed they were – stories. Never in her life had she imagined they could possibly be real.

“A place that’s only exists in bedtime stories.”

“I assure you, it’s very real. A whole colony of pixies resides in Neverland. Combined, their magic would be enough to heal the curse; the trick is convincing them to help. Lucky for you, they owe me a favor.” His eyebrow rose suggestively. “I’m open to suggestions on a form of repayment, but if you need ideas I’d be more than happy to supply a few.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow, remembering the terms of her last payment. She was already indebted to Hook for him saving her life thus far; to accept his offer now would make her debt nearly insurmountable. She’d owe him for years to come. But then again, she couldn’t repay anything if she was dead.

She leaned against the cabin wall and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. How was this even possible? A mysterious man that knew her hidden identity – a cursed blade meant to end her life – a legendary land that held pixies powerful enough to cure dark magic – a pirate that had apparently been to Neverland before.

What were the odds?

Emma had a million questions but figured they could all wait until later. “It sounds ridiculous and unbelievable… but it also sounds like it’s our only option.”

“I must warn you, though, love.” He turned to her then, cautiously snatching her gaze as if he really would prefer not to tell her. “I might not always be the charming pirate you’re used to. Neverland does strange things to a person’s mind.”

Emma unconsciously licked her lips.

“How so?”

Did she really _want_ to know?

“It can make a man feel completely carefree. Makes him feel like he could take on the world or jump off the highest cliff and fly. Like he could reach up and take the stars down from the sky or outrun the wind or move a mountain with his bare hands.”

He stepped towards her, their bodies only inches apart, forcing her to mold her back to the wall. He lifted his hand and ran it through her hair before curling it around the back of her neck, his thumb running across her jawbone. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers; his eyes were closed and his voice was low and husky as he whispered to her.

“Makes him feel like he could spend a thousand lifetimes with a woman and never tire of her or want for anything more than the feeling of her skin against his… her lips on his body… her joined with him.”

His words were like sin. Emma had closed her eyes at some point as he spoke – she didn’t know when – and she found herself fighting to keep her breathing steady. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and there was a spreading warmth that was building in her stomach.

“But it can also make a man feel helpless. Part of Neverland’s power is that it causes you to forget everything you know. To know that you’re at the mercy of the magic in the land… it can make you angry, and anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark.”

They were quiet and unmoving; she had no wish to break the spell his words had cast over them, but she forced the words out.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He laughed, if you could even call it that; it was a hoarse sound that most definitely did not stem from joy.

“I wouldn’t have you see me dark like that, Emma.”

“I trust you.” Even if you don’t always trust yourself, she added to herself.

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. They were a less startling blue than when she first met him; now they were more like the gray-blue of a storm on the ocean. His hand shifted, giving his thumb access to glide across her bottom lip, and his eyes dropped to track its progress.

“I think I’d like to collect on your prior debt now.”

The kiss.

His words were soft, much softer than the impossibly loud sound of Emma’s heart beating that she was sure he could hear in the silence that surrounded them following his statement.

“A deal’s a deal.”

His lips turned up in a small smile. “You’re much more than just a simple deal, love.”

Then he dipped his head and kissed her and it was everything she’d ever imagined it would be. His lips were firm against hers, demanding, and she felt she would be burned with the heat of it. His mouth moved against hers, parting her lips. He was intoxicating. Their tongues intermingled, causing the scorching heat to travel through her entire body, and she distractedly thought that _this_ was a kiss.

Her hands slid up his arms of their own accord. They ghosted over his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck, her fingers sliding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck, caressing him. At her touch, he moaned and it vibrated through her mouth. He grabbed her chin and turned her head, creating a better angle, a deeper angle, to kiss her; at the same time, his hooked hand settled at her waist and he leaned into her, pressing her against the wall. His hips shifted against hers and the sudden increase in intensity left her breathless. His kisses were hot and strong and wanting, and she could feel her long-standing resistance floating away like ashes on the wind, burnt and discarded.

Her hands ceased their caress, one grabbing a fistful of his hair, the other dropping to clutch at the front of his vest. He made another noise as his hand slid down her side and along to her back, pushing her forward and making her arch her body into him. He abandoned her lips, nipping at her earlobe before trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck. Emma’s head fell back against the wall and she gasped as he sucked at a sensitive spot near her collarbone. Her fingers were looped in his belt and she pulled his hips tightly against hers.

She couldn’t get enough… couldn’t feel enough.

If his words earlier were sin, what did that make his kisses? Because surely no man should be able to kiss as well as Hook did. The things he could do with his mouth caused her mind to spin, her stomach to flutter, and her knees to weaken.

That’s why she was surprised when Hook was the one to pull away. He leaned against her, unwilling – or maybe unable – to move, his head buried in the crook of her neck; his breathing was heavy with what she assumed to be a combination of his desire and the effort it was taking for him to stop. With one last rough and jagged breath, he pulled back, pressing his lips to her forehead before stepping away and turning his back to her. His words were soft, only barely reaching her ears.

“You’re sure?”

Oh yeah… Neverland. She’d almost forgotten what they had even been talking about. To be completely honest, it hadn’t seemed important once he’d kissed her; especially since his kisses had easily been the most arousing and mind-blowing ones she’d ever experienced.

“Yes.”

A soft sigh. He reached for her hand.

“Then let’s go.”


	5. A New Home and A Remedy

_“So come with me to a place where dreams are born and time is never planned.”_

* * *

The merchant trading ship was nothing fancy, didn’t even come close to the sophisticated vessels of the royal navy she’d been on in the past. Those trips with her parents had transpired on gleaming, flawless ships with uniformed officers that always carried out their duties with a respectful smile. It didn’t take Emma long to realize that conditions like that didn’t occur very often outside of the royal influence.

Gruff sailors, toughened by years of a life at sea, moved about the ship. The craft was quite a bit smaller than the royal navy vessels and since it was a trading ship, it was always packed to near overflowing with goods and merchandise. The ship and its accommodations were filthy, to say the least, but Emma found that it didn’t really matter; material luxuries and refinements were now a thing of the past. She knew better than to believe that starting this new life would be anything but challenging.

She’d managed to barter her way onto the ship nearly a month ago.

_“Sir, please; I can pay you.”_

_The captain of the ship – Emma could see the weather-worn words Alice May printed on the front – had turned her initial request to board his ship down, but predictably stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her at the mention of money. His hand rubbed his jaw as he took a couple steps toward her, surveying her curiously, before stopping and holding out his hand. Emma was already prepared._

_She dropped a few pieces of gold into his waiting palm and his was relieved to see his eyes widen in response. That was a good sign. Dressed in her casual travelling trousers, shirt, and cloak, she clearly hadn’t looked like a person that would be in possession of that kind of money. But then again, she’d been banking on people making that assumption; the less everyone else knew, the better._

_“Don’t think you’ll get a free ride just ‘cause you got some gold, girl. If you wanna come, you’re gonna have to work.” The captain had recovered from his initial shock at the gold in his hand._

_Emma spared a glance for the ship. She’d never had to do a day’s worth of hard labor in her life, the most work being when she practiced swordplay or horseback riding with her father. But she also knew that she needed to get out of the kingdom. She’d only been gone for one hour tops but time was of the essence._

_“I’ll work as hard as anyone else.”_

_The captain let out a bark of laughter and grinned at her and she was surprised to find that it wasn’t the leering, unpleasant sort of smile she’d been expecting. Still laughing, he pulled a floppy hat from one of his many pockets and reached forward to push her hood back. Emma felt a moment of panic flood through her at the thought of being recognized when she was on the cusp of escaping, but if he recognized her, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply placed the droopy hat on her head before clapping her on the shoulder._

_“Well then welcome aboard, sailor.”_

Her time aboard the trading vessel had flown by. In the beginning, the activities had worn her out. She would stumble around completing her chores, body aching from the prior day’s exertions, before collapsing into her bunk at night, exhausted. She adapted quickly, though. Day by day, her muscles ached less and she found she could do more work. It was never easy, by any means, but Emma felt a strange sort of satisfaction from the labor that she’d never felt before. She knew she couldn’t stay on board forever, though. Eventually, she’d need to settle somewhere.

_“Trying to escape the law, lass?” Emma remained silent and stared at the captain. “There’re a few places people who don’t wanna be found can go, but if you’re asking my personal opinion I’d have to say Tortuga.”_

_“Can you take me there?”_

_He nodded. “Aye, but only if you finish swabbing those decks before sundown.” Emma ran off to do her work with a smile, the captain’s chuckle following behind her._

It had only been a couple days since that conversation and now here she was.

“You got a place to stay?” A brusque sailor had come to stand beside her at the head of the gangway. His name was Mr. Gibbs and, during her time on the ship, he’d somewhat taken her under his wing, despite his initial insistence of what bad luck it was to have a woman on board. After warming up to her, he’d taken it upon himself to show her the easiest ways to climb the riggings, how to tie the various knots they used, and how to navigate in the open sea.

“No.” She stared out at what would was to become her new home. The royal palace versus a pirate town… could two places be more different? “I’ll see if someone will give me shelter for the night. Then tomorrow I’ll start looking for a permanent place and maybe some work.” They were silent as Emma worked up the courage to step off the ship.

“Take care of yourself, girl.”

“You too.” Emma looked up at the bearded man with a small smile. “Goodbye, Mr. Gibbs.”

She made her way down to the docks and stood there for a moment, watching the Alice May sail off with a small feeling of nostalgia. She’d only been on board for a short while, but she had grown to enjoy the raucous sailors’ company; they had been her first real experience outside of her sheltered palace upbringing. But she didn’t have long to stand there, because at that moment the skies opened up and released a severe downpour. With a squeal, she pulled her hood up over her head and ran into town.

It was beyond frustrating to find out that the people of Tortuga were not very trusting of strangers or visitors. She sprinted from door to door, requesting stay for the night, but was repeatedly turned away with distrustful looks. What were they even worried about? She was just a girl! It was a while later, when she was hunkered down in an alley trying to stay out of the rain, that Emma noticed a sign swinging wildly in the storm.

The Salty Dog Inn.

Without a second thought, she ran from the alley and crashed through the inn’s door. The sound of men yelling and laughing met her ears and the instant warmth from a fire seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill she’d had from the rain and wind.

“Hi, there! You want a room?”

The words came almost immediately after she’d entered. Emma attempted to wring some of the water from her hair and clothes as she turned to look in the direction of the voice. It had come from a small girl sitting behind a desk next to a slightly older boy. She was young, most likely the same age as Emma, with dark brown wavy hair and was giving Emma a curious smile.

“I… um… yes. I’d like a room.”

“You’re not from around here.” It was so apparent that the girl didn’t even phrase it as a question.

“No, I’m not.” Emma looked through the doorway to a warmly-lit pub before walking over the desk. “I just got into town.” Apparently not one to mess around, the boy told her the daily rates and Emma felt her heart drop; she didn’t have enough. “Oh… I’m afraid I don’t have that much.”

“Best be on your way then.” At the harsh words, the brunette gave the boy a contemptuous frown.

“August, look at her – she’s new in town, she’s soaked, and she doesn’t have any money. She can’t stay on the streets!”

“I don’t want to kick her out either but she doesn’t have enough money. You know Dad’s rules… what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to give her a room, idiot!”

Emma stared at the pair as they argued.

“Well I can’t just _give_ her one!” They glared at each other for a moment before the boy threw his hands up in surrender and shoved his chair back. “Fine! I swear, if you weren’t my sister…” The boy moved from behind the desk with the girl following close behind him, a victorious smirk on her face. “You, come with us.”

Emma followed the siblings upstairs and to a room at the end of a long hallway. The boy knocked once before opening the door to reveal a man seated at a desk counting money. He glanced up once at their entry and then did a double take at the sight of Emma.

“What’s going on?” Obviously he was the type of man that knew when something was up.

“This girl…” The brunette motioned to Emma. “She needs a place to stay but she doesn’t have enough money…”

The man held up his hand to cut her off. “No money, no room – those are the rules. You know that.”

“But Dad, she’s just moved here!” The girl ran over to the man and grabbed at his sleeve desperately.

Emma had always found it easier to play the sweet and innocent daughter act to her father rather than her mother; fathers just seemed to fall for it more easily. Clearly this girl had the same idea. The man looked from his daughter to Emma.

“Not many people move to Tortuga. Who are you, girl? Where’d you come from?”

This was what she’d been waiting for, the inevitable questions of who was she, where’d she come from, why was she alone, and where were her parents. She was willing to give people her name –

Tortuga was so far outside the kingdom that the residents wouldn’t even know who the king and queen were, much less the name of the princess – but she would have to leave out the rest.

“My name’s Emma Swan and it doesn’t matter where I’m from. I can never go back.”

The trio stared at her for a second before the girl turned to her father, tugging on his sleeve.

“See, Dad, she needs a place to stay. Can she stay? Please?”

“We’re near full and she doesn’t have enough money… I have a business to run.”

“What if she worked here?” It was the boy – August – that spoke now in her defense. “Just the other day you were saying how we needed help.” If this worked, she’d have to remember to kiss him later – on the cheek, of course.

“Hmm… that is true…” The man trailed off, thinking, while Emma waited on bated breath. “Alright, girl, here’s my offer. You get free lodging here for as long as you work for me; you’ll start at the desk with my daughter and then we’ll see where it goes from there. I’ll also throw in a few shillings a week if you turn out to be helpful. If it turns out you’re useless, you’re back out on the streets. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Emma felt like she could fly. What luck! Not only did she have a place to stay, she also had work. He nodded sharply and began to count his money again before pausing to look up at them.

“Well what are you three standing around for? Get downstairs and get to work.” The three of them stampeded back downstairs before pausing in the front room.

“I have to get back to the bar. Ruby, you’ll be okay here in the front?” The girl nodded eagerly. “And you’ll show her what to do?” Another nod.

As August made his way into the bar, Emma turned to her new friend, grasping her hands firmly. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” The girl just waved the thanks off with a smile.

“It’s nothing – now let’s get to work. I have so much to show you!”

* * *

“So how exactly does one get to Neverland?”

Emma stood on the upper deck of the Jolly Roger next to Hook as his crewmembers scurried around on the deck below preparing the ship’s sails and riggings for the journey. It was apparent that they’d made this trip before and knew what the journey there entailed, what dangers they might face. Watching them, she still wasn’t sure whether to be excited or nervous. An exhilarating thrill went through her at the thought of the magical land, but Hook’s reluctant acceptance of Neverland as their next heading had given her pause. Against her better judgment, though, she found she trusted him.

_“Here.” She instinctively caught the tossed item and found it to be one of his shirts. “It’ll be big on you but at least it’s clean.”_

_“Thank you.” Her own shirt was impossibly dirty, had a knife-sized slit in the side, and sported a rather bloodstain. Not exactly the most appealing attire. Emma stared at Hook, waiting for him to leave._

_“Well go on then – put it on.”_

_She gave him a hard look. “With you watching? I think not.”_

_“No need to be shy…” He trailed off teasingly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”_

_She paused at his words, the knowledge that she’d woken up in his cabin earlier with her wound already bandaged floating through her mind. She’d been unconscious… it would have only been too easy for him to…_

_“Hook, tell me you didn’t?”_

_“What are you talking about?” His face was trained in an innocent expression but his voice was anything but._

_“You know very well what I’m talking about. You can’t just take advantage of an unconscious person like that. It’s indecent!”_

_“I didn’t take advantage of anyone.” There was a mischievous lilt to his voice._

_“You just said it wouldn’t be anything you haven’t seen before!”_

_“Who said I was talking about you, love?”_

_Her mouth shut with an audible snap._

_“As far as I’m aware, your body should be similar to those of other women.” She could feel her cheeks flush as he gave her one of his smug smirks. She’d taken the bait he’d thrown out hook, line, and sinker. “However, I can’t say that with complete surety so I’m more than willing to check just to make sure.”_

_“Out, Hook!”_

_Instead of listening to her, though, he crossed the cabin to stand directly in front of her. Emma did her best to glare at him, tried to show him she was frustrated, but the self-satisfied grin he was giving her was wearing her down and she couldn’t help the slight lift she felt at the corners of her mouth. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her still-warm cheeks._

_“That blush looks good on you, love. I’ll have to aim for that more often.” Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left her alone in the cabin. She waited for a moment, debating on whether to trust him to be a gentleman and let her change in privacy, before she ripped her dirty shirt over her head and pulled on his black one._

_Emma didn’t know what to make of Hook anymore._

_They’d started their – relationship? – with playful banter and teasing innuendos that she was able to resist relatively easy. Sure, his words affected her, they would affect any normal girl with hormones and a pulse, but she’d convinced herself that it would be best to avoid crossing that line with him. Ruby had taught her early on not to trust the pirates that came through town with anything more than a casual fling and Emma had lived by her friend’s words, never giving anything more than her body to a man._

_But she wasn’t sure she could keep body and mind separate when it came to Hook._

_He was charming and sexy and knew exactly how to draw her in, and she could feel herself fall for him in a way that made her nervous. That’s why she resisted him, resisted his advances. For almost two years she had vehemently denied her attraction to him. Ruby had never believed her and Emma had begun to wonder who exactly she was trying to convince – her friend or herself._

_Over the years, it had become a sort of stalemate between the two of them, almost their own norm. They both knew that he wanted her, he made that plainly obvious, and they both knew that she was interested but hesitant to cross that line. So he’d waited, only going so far with his inferences, never pushing her too far. She’d expected him to give up after some time – he was a man, after all – but he’d stuck around. She didn’t know what he did when he wasn’t in Tortuga, but when he was in town his focus was on her and that kind of dedication made resisting him hard._

_Really hard._

_But things were different between them now._

_The change had started the day she’d finally asked about his tattoo, about the mysterious Milah. Sharing something personal as they did had shifted them, pushing them into new and different territory. And then there had been their last sparring match… he’d tried to play it off, saying that it was because she owed him, but they both knew that when he moved to kiss her that day it’d had nothing to do with collecting payment. And then there was the kiss… well, kisses. He’d cashed in on that payment, but instead of just one kiss, it had spiraled well out of her control. The fact that she’d furthered the situation only proved that she couldn’t keep a level head around him._

_And so now here they were. All of those singular moments had combined to change their dynamic, bringing them to this new place where the line she’d kept between them was blurred and starting to fade. She’d continue to resist him, she knew she would. But it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him._

_It was that she didn’t trust herself enough to let go with him._

Hook closed his compass with a sharp snap and turned the wheel slightly. She tried not to admire him too much as she watched him navigate the ship, but it was hard not to when it was obvious how much he belonged at sea, at the helm of a ship. For the past two years, all of their time spent together had been on land either practicing in the clearing or in the bar. Here, he was in his element.

The wind blew strongly, tousling his hair and fluttering his shirt, and he stood there, hand holding a compass and hook on the wheel, with a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face that was unlike anything she’d ever seen during his time on land. He was a pirate, through and through, and she couldn’t imagine him anywhere else than where he was right then.

“There are several ways...” He barked out an order to a man below and adjusted the ship’s direction again. “My first time travelling to Neverland was using a sail made with the feathers from a Pegasus’ wings. Bet you didn’t know that the magic instilled in the flying horses also transfers to their feathers?” She hadn’t known that, having only seen a Pegasus in person once. “The feathers’ magic allowed us to fly here.”

“Fly? You flew a _ship_?”

“Technically my brother did, but yes, we flew there. You know – second star the right and straight on ‘til morning.” The words from the childhood fairytale came back to her. “You never forget your first.”

She shot him a look but he just winked in response. Emma was secretly relieved at his return to his usual innuendos. Their conversation in his cabin a couple hours before had been a serious one, not to mention their little… well, she wasn’t quite sure what to call that yet. Either way, it was nice to see him acting normally again. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to handle delving into a discussion about what happened and was grateful he seemed willing to leave it be.

For now, at least.

Because she knew he wouldn’t drop the issue forever.

_“You’re much more than just a simple deal, love.”_

Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks just thinking about it. The feel of his lips on hers, coaxing them open as he’d plundered her mouth. The heat of his body as it had pressed and rubbed against hers. The sound of his ragged breath as he’d forced himself to pull away. The knowledge that she hadn’t wanted it to stop – wasn’t sure if she would’ve even been _able_ to stop.

Her gaze slid to the side and she found him watching her, smirking. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Emma rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding that Hook’s smirk should be classified as a deadly weapon and outlawed – a weapon of mass destruction to the hearts and minds of women everywhere. She heard him chuckle softly.

“The second time I travelled to Neverland was using a magic bean, which is also what we’ll be using today. It’s a bit of a rough ride as opposed to flying but its magic will steer us true.”

Anticipating her interest, he was already holding the bean up for her to observe when she faced him. He dropped it into her hand for her to look at. The bean was certainly not like any other legume she’d seen in her life; larger and slightly translucent, it felt unnaturally warm in her hand.

“How on earth did you get, not one, but two magic beans? I thought they’d all been destroyed years ago in the giant wars.”

“I’ve done quite a bit more adventuring than you have, love. Plus, I have a crewmember with the ability to procure hard-to-find objects – Smee. He’s quite useful, really.”

Emma looked down to the deck below and spotted Smee. The pirate that always stumbled about wearing the sloppy, red hat seemed exactly the opposite of useful; apparently, his other talents made him invaluable.

“Well, I suppose here’s as good a spot as any.” Hook leaned forward to yell to his men. “Brace yourselves, lads – next stop, Neverland!” All of the men cheered uproariously in response, seemingly excited for another adventure. “Hold tight, love – this is going to get messy.”

She glanced around at the sparse upper deck. “Hold on to what?”

“Anything.”

Emma watched as he threw the magic bean far out in the water. Instantly, the sky above them darkened and it was as if a vacuum had opened up beneath the water. A giant hole appeared, all of the water rushing down into it, creating a huge maelstrom. The water under the Jolly Roger was pulled forward, causing the ship to jerk, and she reached out to grasp the railing of the deck to avoid falling.

Hook was back at the wheel. He strained to hold it steady against the pull of the water, trying to keep the ship from going forward too quickly. The men below secured themselves by grabbing onto any fixed object they could find; Emma even noticed a few flee beneath the deck to a safer, more sheltered environment and she wondered what would happen if a person where to fall overboard between the two realms.

It wasn’t long before Hook abandoned the helm, the maelstrom having taken complete control of the structure, and came to stand beside where she gripped the railing. The water drew the ship along, circling it along the outer edge of the massive whirlpool.

“Ready?”

Emma didn’t even have time to respond as they tipped towards the edge of the portal. The ship angled sharply downward and she felt her foot slide out from beneath her on the slippery deck. Her shin scraped painfully against the lowest railing, but she had a firm grip on the top beam and managed to drag herself back up. Suddenly, Hook moved behind her, placing his hand and hook on either side of hers and pressing his body against her back to steady her against the railing. He was protecting her. There wasn’t time to process his actions, though, because it was then that the ship went over the edge completely.

Then she was falling.

Actually, the whole ship was falling, but Emma found she didn’t care about anything except the weightless sensation in her stomach at the sudden loss of gravity. The men were yelling – some in fear, some in enjoyment – and a whirlwind of lights swirled around the ship. When they began to make her feel dizzy, she closed her eyes and focused on the solid feeling of Hook against her back, the movement of him lowering his face into the crook of her neck.

The trip through the portal couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but it felt like the longest seconds of Emma’s life. Once they were safely on the other side and she was able to think coherently again, she was absolutely sure she never wanted to travel by way of magic bean again. Altogether, it was a most unpleasant experience.

“Alright there, love?”

“Can we please _never_ do that again?” She felt Hook press a soft kiss to her shoulder and smile against her skin; her whole body was shaking from the fall and he could probably feel it.

“I don’t know; I quite enjoy the feeling of you trembling in my arms.” She remained quiet, refusing to respond. “What if our only way home is via magic bean?”

“It’s not, is it?” She turned to face him, his arms still secured on either side of her body. “Please tell me there’s another way home!”

He laughed and they both ignored how the men below started cheering again, this time all in enjoyment. “There’s another way home.”

Emma stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you just saying that because it’s what I want to hear?” She was fairly good at knowing when someone was lying to her but she’d always found it very hard to read Hook.

“I promise, love, there’s another way we’ll be going home. I’m fresh out of beans.”

They remained there for a moment longer than necessary – Emma pressed against the railing and Hook leaning towards her with both his arms caging her in – before he retreated, making his way down to the lower deck. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if this would be a regular occurrence with him now, invading her personal space.

Hook busied himself on deck with his crew, checking the rigging and sails for damage and righting overturned equipment and supplies. It looked like the ship and the whole crew had made the portal jump in one piece; she didn’t know them too terribly well but was still relieved they hadn’t lost anyone.

Taking a moment, she examined her surroundings. It had been late afternoon when they’d left the Enchanted Forest but the sky above her was the intense dark right before dawn. Apparently, time flowed differently here in Neverland. The dark ocean spread out in all directions and Emma could just make out the outline of an island in the distance.

“So what’s our plan of action, Captain?”

The query caught her attention; she’d been wondering the same thing. Nothing motivated like a little dark magic coursing through your blood trying to kill you.

“The lass is gravely injured.” Emma saw several members of the crew glance up at her. “Magic is the only thing that can cure her ailment so our plan is to seek out the pixies.”

“But Cap’n, don’t they already know we’re here?”

“Undoubtedly so, but we don’t have the time to waste waiting for them to come to us. It would save us a lot of trouble, though, if that damned Tinkerbell would show up.” Hook looked out towards the island she’d spotted earlier. It was an odd sort of name – she assumed it was a name – and sounded silly, a tad too girly, coming from Hook. “Prepare to set sail for Pixie Hollow.”

All of a sudden, Emma felt faint. Since she’d awakened on the Jolly Roger, her day had been nothing but one burst of action after another; now, it seemed everything was catching up to her. The slight swaying of the ship felt much worse than she knew it really was and she could feel the nausea creep up on her. At the same time, she felt a dull ache in her side and pressed her hand to her cursed wound. When she blinked, she was surprised to find herself laid out on the deck with no clue as to how she got there, and when she made a move to stand up, she realized she couldn’t move at all, had no control over her muscles anymore.

“Captain!”

Emma couldn’t even turn her head to look at Hook as he rushed up the steps to her, dropping to his knees beside her body. She didn’t know which of his crew had called attention to her but she’d have to find out and thank him later.

“Swan, what’s wrong?”

She was on board a ship full of pirates, she was wounded by a knife that had been filled with dark magic, she’d collapsed yet again, and she was searching for pixies in a land most people didn’t even know existed.

What _wasn’t_ wrong?

“I ca…” Damn, that stab wound was really smarting now. “I can’t move.”

Hook reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up to look at the wound. Emma could just move her eyes enough to see how the dark lines had spread far past the wound; they’d progressed beyond the bandages and some strayed dangerously in the direction of her heart.

“We need to get you to the pixies now. This is spreading a lot faster than I thought it would.”

“Perfect…” Emma tried for a valiant chuckle but it came out weak. She expected him to make some kind of joke to ease the seriousness of the situation so his next words were unexpected.

“Ah, looks like we have company. Perfect timing.”

Hook wore a relieved smile and pointed off into the distance. At first, she couldn’t see anything; then she noticed a small light coming towards the ship, growing larger by the second. The ball of light reached the vessel, flying in a circle around it, before coming towards Hook, moving quickly around his head until it stopped to hover directly in front of his face.

“Hello, Tink.”

The light grew brighter, so bright that Emma had to squint, before it faded to reveal a petite woman. “Hello, Killian. I’ve missed you.”

 _This_ was Tinkerbell?

She was a dainty little thing, barely coming up to Hook’s chin, and the playful grin on her face gave Emma the impression that she could be fairly wild. Her curly blonde hair was twisted up into a messy ponytail and she wore a short green dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“As well you should.” He was joking with her, but his playful demeanor gradually changed to something more genuine. “It’s been a while.”

It happened fast – Tinkerbell launched herself forward, covering the space between them, and embraced Hook in a hug. Tinkerbell was laughing gaily as Hook hugged her and Emma could see where she got her name; her laugh sounded like tiny bells. Over Hook’s shoulder, Tinkerbell’s eyes found Emma lying on the deck and she pulled out of the embrace.

“And who’s this?”

“This is Emma, she’s the reason I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“She was stabbed almost two days ago by a blade cursed with dark magic. I used the pixie dust you’d given me, but it wasn’t enough to heal her; all it did was slow the spreading.” Pixie dust was a great deal more powerful than fairy dust and significantly rarer. For him to have some on hand and choose to use it on her was… well, it was more than Emma would’ve expected.

“Yes, it would take a great deal more magic than my pixie dust contains to stop a curse. The only one that could stop dark magic would be…”

“Clarion. I know.” Based on the look on his face, that wasn’t a good thing.

“She’ll never agree to it.”

“She might.” Hook glanced at Emma, quickly looking back to the pixie. “She doesn’t have much time left, Tink. Will you take her?”

“Killian…” Tinkerbell’s voice sounded doubtful.

“Just try? Remember, you owe me.” She wondered what exactly Tinkerbell owed him for but the pixie just sighed and gave Hook an exasperated look similar to the kind Emma frequently gave him; he must get those a lot.

“Only for you.” Then she was walking over to Emma and kneeling next to her. “Hello, Emma. Just try to relax.”

As if she had a choice – she couldn’t move.

Tinkerbell opened a small bottle and immediately the area was filled with a comforting fragrance. It was a mixture of scents, each of which brought a vision to mind – the smoke from burning logs in the inn’s fireplace as she worked, her mother’s faint rose-scented perfume as she tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, the briny ocean air as she stood on the beach with her toes buried in the sand, the hint of leather and rum as she crossed swords with Hook in the clearing.

“What is that?” Emma couldn’t help but ask.

“Pixie dust – it’s to help you fly. It smells good, doesn’t it?” The pixie smiled. “A person needs to think of happy thoughts to fly so the pixie dust will always smell like the things that make you happiest. It smells different to every person.”

Tapping the bottle lightly, Tinkerbell sprinkled a faint coating of the dust over Emma’s body. The scents from some of her happiest memories were overpowering, making it impossible to think of anything but those moments. Without warning, Emma realized she was now hovering several inches above the ground; the only thing keeping her from floating away was Tinkerbell’s hand pressed firmly against her stomach.

“I want her back in one piece, Tink.” She couldn’t turn her head to look at Hook, but she heard the warning beneath the words.

“Don’t worry, Killian, she’s in good hands.”

And with that, they were off. A light emanated brightly from the pixie’s body and when it faded she was once again a miniature version of herself. Her wings fluttered as she guided them away from the Jolly Roger and through the Neverland sky; Emma could just make out the sea and then the woods beneath her as they moved inland. It wasn’t long before they began to descend, Tinkerbell pressing firmly into her stomach to force her down.

“I guess I didn’t need to give you so much dust.” She grunted with the strain of pushing Emma down, her wings fluttering wildly. “You’re happy thoughts are a little strong.”

Surprisingly, Emma felt a wave of disappointment flood through her as grew closer to the ground. Unlike travelling by magic bean, flying had been exhilarating, and she could distinctly remember how exciting the thought had been as a child. Her body hovered a couple inches before it dropped to the ground with a thump, her disappointment cutting through the last of her happy thoughts, ending her ability to fly. Tinkerbell stood beside her, human-sized once more.

“Emma, I’m going to have to ask Clarion to help. She’s our queen and the only one powerful enough to heal you.”

“ _Will_ she help me?”

“That’s the catch.” Emma didn’t like the sound of that. “She’s not very fond of Killian, not after his last time here. His actions caused something of a rift between the pixies and himself. It will take some convincing for Clarion to agree, but I have an idea.”

“And that would be…?”

“Our queen loves an honorable heart.”

“Come forward, Tinkerbell.” With a reassuring smile, the pixie left her range of sight and Emma was left staring up at the sky, only able to listen to their discussion.

“Is it true that Captain Hook and his band of miscreants have returned to Neverland once more?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Emma could hear a rumble of discontent go through the crowd and Tinkerbell hurriedly continued. “However, this time he has come to Neverland on peaceable terms.”

“Peaceable terms… So you are saying he has finally abandoned his quest for revenge, then?”

Revenge?

“I believe so.”

There was a pause and Emma wished she could actually see the people – pixies, rather – that held her fate in their hands.

“So then what does the captain desire this time?”

“He came here specifically to seek our help. This woman is under his care and has been wounded with dark magic. He would ask our help in saving her life.”

“That is a noble voyage, indeed.” The two pixies made Hook sound so damn heroic that Emma was glad he wasn’t around to hear, knowing it would only inflate his ego. After a moment’s hesitation, the queen continued. “Very well, I will do what I can.”

Emma released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She could barely hear the quiet footsteps coming towards her; then they stopped and Emma was staring up at Queen Clarion. She had a nice face, pleasant enough that it made you want to be her comrade but also stern enough that you trusted her to be a wise leader. Clarion smiled down at her.

“Hello, Emma.” She couldn’t remember anyone ever mentioning her name during the conversation and wondered how the queen knew it. “Don’t fret. All will be better soon.” The pixie queen’s hand passed over Emma’s face and she felt herself fall into a deep sleep.


	6. A Promotion and A Few Encounters

_“This is where the spiral catches you – this is where it starts.”_

* * *

Emma should be getting married today.

At least, she would’ve been had she not run away. Today was her eighteenth birthday, something only Ruby and August knew but would no doubt still find a way to celebrate about later that night. It was strange to think she’d been gone for six years already and really did consider the rough port town of Tortuga her home now.

“You have to keep up with the washing or you’ll run out of tankards before the night’s even halfway done.”

Emma turned to give August an exasperated look. Tonight was her and Ruby’s first night working the bar instead of the reception area and August was on hand to show them the ropes, but the crowd of thirsty men was beginning to overwhelm Emma.

The switch had been brought up a couple weeks beforehand when one of the patrons had made the comment that Ruby and Emma would be easier on the eyes over a tankard of ale than August. It didn’t take long for the suggestion to spread to all of the patrons, each time met with a grunt of approval, and finally reach the owner’s ears. With some deliberation, he’d finally agreed that the trade made sense; after all, more men were likely to show up and spend money if Ruby and Emma were serving them drinks.

“How am I supposed to keep serving drinks, though, if I’m washing dishes?” The juggle of duties behind the bar was far more demanding than August had ever made it seem and she wondered how he’d managed by himself all these years.

“Most of the time you get some lulls and can clean up, but sometimes you just have to tell ‘em to hold on. If they really want a drink, they’ll wait.”

Ruby hurried into the bar and unloaded a tray full of tankards into the wash bin Emma had just managed to empty with an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry Emma, you can pay me back tomorrow.”

When deciding the workload, Emma and Ruby had decided to trade out on floor versus bar duty. They’d originally figured Ruby, with her long legs and stunning physique, would do better on the floor, but changed their mind because Emma couldn’t exactly be considered plain. She had matured over the years to have long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back, hazel eyes that Ruby said could stop a man in his tracks, a light skin tone that some said made her look angelic when combined with her blonde hair, and a slender body with just a few slight curves that made her far from unappealing.

The owner believed that, with Emma and Ruby working the bar, profit was almost guaranteed. Men would be constantly calling them over to order more drinks just to get a chance to talk – or maybe even a touch – and more drinks meant more money. Emma had asked Ruby once how her father felt about her being objectified, but she’d had only laughed it off and reminded her that this was Tortuga and that was just the way things were.

“Yeah, you just wait.” Emma gave the brunette a mock glare. “I’ve heard that payback’s a bitch.”

“Ruby, fill up some more tankards and get back out there; Emma, stop washing and go take some orders.”

Emma was glad that August would be helping them these first couple weeks, but she was also excited for the time when they would be able to manage the bar on their own without him. August tended to be all business; Emma and Ruby tended to mix business _and_ fun.

It was late, close to three in the morning, when the last of the patrons left and Emma flopped down onto one of the benches. She was completely exhausted, this being the first time she’d been able to sit down in hours, but still felt that her first evening as a barmaid far outweighed a possible first evening as a wife. Barmaid trumped an arranged marriage in her book.

After cleaning off one last table, Ruby came to sit beside her.

“So what do you think – bar or reception?”

Emma could remember all the long hours of sitting in the small lobby. The only thing that had made it even remotely enjoyable was the fun that the two girls would get into that usually had nothing to do with work and more to do with flirting and teasing the patrons entering or exiting the tavern.

“Bar, hands down.”

August chose that moment to sidle up to them, one arm held mysteriously behind his back. “You both did really well tonight. The switch was obviously a good idea; I don’t remember the last time we had such a lucrative night.”

“Probably the night before you started working the bar.”

August’s pleased expression turned into a frown at Ruby’s teasing jab but he didn’t respond. Originally, there had been another lady working the bar, but when she decided to run off with one of the patrons, August had been forced to step in to fill the vacancy. Even after all these years, the patrons still gave him a hard time about him being less than appealing when compared to the previous barmaid.

“I made this for you two. A congratulations, of sorts, on your promotion.”

August held out what looked like a normal piece of wood but on closer inspection was more. It was roughly three feet long, shaved down from a larger log to a manageable size so that either Emma or Ruby could handle it, and had a small handgrip carved into the smaller, tapered end.

“Um… thanks?” The brunette took the piece of wood hesitantly.

“It’s a club.” Emma looked at him blankly and, judging by his exasperated expression, Ruby was doing the same thing. “Things get kind of rough in here sometimes and I just want you two to have something to defend yourselves with if things start to get out of hand.”

August rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet their eyes, clearly embarrassed. Emma had hardly ever seen displays of fondness between the two siblings – they had more disputes than anything else – so the show of affection was somewhat awkward for Ruby and August.

“So let me get this straight…” Ruby had an excited gleam in her eyes that Emma knew could only mean trouble. “You’re saying that we’re free to beat any guy over the head with this?”

August gave her a look. “Well I’d prefer you not go beating up every patron in the bar as that tends to be bad for business, but if a guy is seriously harassing you, yes, you can use the club.”

The brunette broke out into an evil grin. “Excellent! First guy to grab my ass tomorrow – wham!”

“You’re violent tendencies scare me sometimes, Ruby.” Emma tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her when the girl gave her a wolfish grin.

* * *

Twenty-five days

Emma needed food.

Actually, the whole crew of the Jolly Roger needed food, but she was so hungry that the phrase ‘every man for himself’ was starting to sound better and better. Let them figure out their own food problem; they ate far more than she did, anyway. She glanced at the short span of water between the ship and the beach and debated if she could swim there in time to avoid the mermaids that Hook had told her occasionally plagued the area. As her stomach grumbled rather loudly and annoyingly, she decided that it was a risk she was almost willing to take.

It had been almost four weeks now since Clarion, the pixie queen, had made good on her word, successfully healing Emma of the dark magic that had been inflicted by the stabbing back in Tortuga and returning her to Hook in one piece. Emma couldn’t remember much of what happened in the days to follow. Apparently, being cured from the dark curse had taken its toll and she’d ended up sleeping off the aftereffects for the majority of the next few days in Hook’s cabin; although, she supposed that what was previously his cabin was now their cabin as she’d been staying in it even after she’d recovered.

_“What are you doing?”_

_Emma crossed the room and flopped down onto the sofa, fluffing the pillow she’d snatched from his bed and placing it behind her head. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m sleeping on the couch.”_

_“Why?” He seemed genuinely confused and Emma almost thought the puzzled look was cute._

_“Because I’m not sleeping in the bed.”_

_“You’ve been sleeping in the bed for the past four days…”_

_“Only because I didn’t have a say in the matter seeing how I was pretty much unconscious.” Emma flicked the extra sheet she’d found in his armoire, the fabric spreading out and falling over her._

_“Well, this will make things a little more difficult.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “The bed is definitely larger… but I suppose we could make it work on the sofa as well. We’ll just have to get creative.” He gave her a smirk and wink combo and she looked away, smiling slightly._

_“I’m sleeping on the couch – alone.”_

_“That’s a shame, especially when my bed is quite comfortable.” She knew that to be true, having spent most of her recovery time sleeping in it. She’d found out later that Hook had, surprisingly, been quite the gentleman and slept on the couch._

_“Yes, I’m sure many women would testify as to how comfortable your bed is.”_

_“There’s more than enough room here for both of us, love.” He said it with a teasing lilt that never failed to make her smile._

_“Try all you want, Hook, there’s no way I’m staying in that bed with you.”_

_“You don’t trust me, love?”_

_More like she didn’t trust herself._

_“I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”_

_“Hand, love – just one. But just so you know, I’ve had plenty of years to adapt. I’ve learned to do a great many things one-handed.”_

_“I’m sure you have.”_

Emma had been mentally preparing herself for the combined leap into the water and mad swim to shore – which she honestly knew she wouldn’t do, she was just being dramatic – when Hook had come up behind her.

“I wouldn’t chance it, love. You’ll never make it to shore.”

It was unnerving how he always seemed to know what she was thinking, but he’d also told her once before that she was very easy to read, that she was something of an open book.

“Well if we don’t get some food soon, I’ll jump into the water anyway just to lure a damn mermaid to catch and eat.”

He chuckled. “You could try but seeing how a mermaid is half human, eating one is probably borderline cannibalism, which is generally frowned on.” The gnawing sensation in her stomach prevented her mind from appreciating his joke, instead only making her frown.

They’d needed food for a while now. The unexpected and hasty departure from Tortuga, along with the impromptu trip to Neverland, had prevented Hook from restocking the food supply aboard the ship and now their provisions were beginning to run dangerously low.

He sighed at her silence. “I know we need food; that’s why we’re going ashore today.” Emma perked up, her frown disappearing instantly. “The plans are to drop anchor just up ahead. Then, I’ll take a small crew to land to search for food.”

“About bloody time – when do we go?”

“ _We_ will be leaving as soon as we drop anchor; _you_ will be staying here.” Unbelievable. Frown already back, Emma opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about being left behind, but he held up his hand to stop her. “The Tiki Forest is a dangerous place, love, and I wouldn’t have you getting hurt.”

Emma stubbornly crossed her arms and refused to back down. “What was the point of all those swordplay lessons, then? I thought you were teaching me how to defend myself.”

“Aye, and they’d no doubt come in handy if a wild boar decided to pull a sword on you and request a duel, but this is Neverland not Wonderland. I doubt your newfound sword-wielding abilities will be much help in taking down wild animals.”

“I have other skills and you know it.” She’d meant her statement to be taken as skills that would be helpful in collecting food, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized the opportunity she’d made available for Hook to make a sexually-suggestive comment. She was not disappointed as his face broke into a devilish smirk.

“Of that I’ve no doubt.” He was standing too close to her now, invading her personal space as he did on what seemed like a regular basis now. “In fact, I’m aware of a great many skills you possess – swordplay, bartending, sailing, archery, kissing…”

“Putting up with you.” She mumbled it under her breath and tried to hide the blush she felt at the reminder of their incident. She knew he’d heard her but he seemed untroubled by her addition to his list, shrugging casually.

“I’m sure you possess a number of other skills as well that I would be more than happy to discover if you would allow it.”

“So then you’ll let me come?”

“No.”

“Then how will you find out about my other skills?” She was pulling at straws now.

He leaned forward and Emma instinctively pressed back against the railing to maintain the space between them, but her back could only bend so far. He paused, face dangerously close to hers. “When I mentioned the other talents I’d like to discover, what I really meant were those more suited to a bedroom.”

“Gah, Hook!” She gave him one of her best glares and pushed him away from her but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with how she’d walked into his suggestion. She moved from the side of the ship to prevent Hook from trapping her again. “This isn’t fair.” It came out in an almost whine and Emma was absolutely sure she hadn’t used that phrase since going through puberty.

“Yes, well, life tends to be unfair.”

“You can’t just tell me what I can and cannot do.”

“I beg to differ.” He moved then to take her spot against the side of the ship, leaning against it in a casual and impossibly sexy way that Emma did her best not to acknowledge. “One of the perks of being a captain, love, is that I get to make all the rules. So as long as you reside on the Jolly Roger, you play by my rules.”

“Hook, you know I can help. I’ve seen the bow you have down in the cargo hold and you know that I’m a good shot.” She’d found the bow not long after her recovery and had wondered where he’d gotten it but hadn’t asked.

He held his chin thoughtfully. “You’re safety would be compromised on land, and I don’t enjoy the thought of being the one to put you in harm’s way.” His voice still held the teasing inflection from earlier, but his eyes betrayed the seriousness he felt about the situation.

“I trust you to protect me.” It was a comment directed to appeal to one of a man’s most basic instincts – the need to protect a lady – and it was her last resort.

The corner of his lips turned up and he pushed off from the railing, moving towards her again. With nothing but open deck behind her, there was no way for him to trap her again, but she chose to hold her ground and allow him to approach her. Emma wanted to prove that his self-assuredness didn’t intimidate her – although, really, it did. He stopped when roughly a foot of space remained between them and reached forward to trail his fingertips lightly up her arm.

“But what if I’m the one you need protecting from, love?”

She felt her traitorous body respond to his charm yet again as her heart sped up and goosebumps broke out on in his fingers’ wake. In an attempt to maintain some sort of control, she narrowed her eyes and tried to glare, although she wasn’t sure how effective it really was. She figured he was aware of the effect he had on her, but he didn’t push it this time, choosing to step back with a small laugh instead.

“Fine, you can come.” The moment gone, she broke out into a grin which most likely stretched from ear to ear. “But you have to stay with me. You can’t go wandering off on your own.”

“Deal.” As if she would disagree.

It hadn’t taken them long to get crew together and make their way to shore. Immediately, the crewmembers began to wander off into the jungle to hunt for food, but Hook had led Emma onto a well-worn trail, specifically telling her not to leave the path for any reason. The trail was narrow, forcing them to walk single file, and Emma insisted Hook go first, not quite trusting him to be behind her where she couldn’t see him.

She’d known he wouldn’t be able to refuse a comment – _“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just wanted to sneak a peek at me”_ – but they fell into silence after that as they moved quietly down the path, ever watchful for anything that could be killed for a meal.

The Enchanted Forest didn’t really offer any jungles, so she found the atmosphere to be slightly claustrophobic. The narrow trail was lined with huge plants that blocked her view, heavy vines hung from the trees that towered overhead and blocked the sunlight, and the buzz of various insects hummed in the background. It felt like the entire jungle pressed in against her from all sides. Altogether, quite different from the forests she’d grown up in.

They hadn’t been on the trail long when Hook came to a halt so abruptly that she almost ran into him. Peering over his shoulder, she searched for the reason they’d stopped.

A dark shape lumbered through the trees and brush ahead of them. All pointed teeth and powerful frame and sharp claws – it was a bear. A _massive_ bear. Her heart began to pound in a mixture of fear and anticipation. While she’d spent most of her life honing her archery skills, she’d had very few chances to put her talent to practical use. Most of her time had been spent shooting at inanimate targets, with the exception of the group of men that had rushed her that night in Tortuga.

What she faced now was no target.

With more determination and confidence than she actually felt, Emma squared her jaw and nocked an arrow while Hook lowered into a crouch to give her room to shoot. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure that if the bear didn’t hear it, it would be able to feel it through the earth. It moved slightly in the brush, giving her a perfect shot. Bow drawn, she stared down the arrow shaft at the bear and felt herself hesitate.

What if she merely wounded the animal? Would it rush to attack them, attempt to claw them to pieces in an injured rage?

What if she missed completely?

Emma wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but then she felt Hook’s hand settle around her ankle, could feel the pressure of it through her boot. He gave a reassuring squeeze – _you can do this_.

Drawing on his confidence in her, she let the arrow fly and it struck true, disappearing into the fur and flesh right behind its front shoulder where Emma knew its vital organs were. The bear roared in pain, its wild eyes rolling in every direction before they pinned on her. Emma stared at the beast in shock as it began to clamber through the brush straight towards her, but just when they were about to run, the animal slowed, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Her arrow had done its job.

Without warning, Hook stood up and pulled her into his chest in a crushing hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder and laughed with him, distractedly noticing how she could feel his racing heart, still charged with energy, mirror hers. “Excellent job, love! Perfect shot.”

It was a completely genuine hug, one of the few non-sexually-charged interactions she’d had with Hook, and she found she enjoyed it much more than she would like to admit.

Fifty-four days

The song drifting through the air was hauntingly beautiful, even from a distance. It was dusk, that time of the evening where the light is fading, making it difficult to see, but Emma could still make out the shapes against the rocks. Bright skin, long hair, and scales. The disturbingly humanoid creatures waved to the ship.

“Those are mermaids?”

“Aye.” Hook leaned against the railing beside her on the upper deck. His face was unnaturally tense, jaw clenched tight; all the typical, carefree swagger gone. He stared out at the women on the rocks.

“They don’t look all _that_ bad…”

“Don’t let them fool you, love. Mermaids are a nasty business. Dark and dangerous creatures in touch with all things mysterious.” He frowned as one of them sang a particularly high note. “During the day they swim all through the sea around here and then come back to these rocks near sunset and rising tide before going to their underwater caves. We call it Mermaids’ Lagoon.” He motioned to a large rock in the middle of the lagoon. “They particularly like Marooner’s Rock.”

Emma watched as a few of the mermaids splashed their fins playfully in the water. Half-fish or not, they were still half-woman and therefore knew how to draw a man’s attention. Obviously, female charms could cross species.

“They’ll drown a man just as soon as look at him.”

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the mermaids lounging on the rocks, and Emma suddenly realized that the lack of noise that always accompanied the ship was unusual. Looking down at the lower deck, she saw every crewmember watching the mermaids with a look of longing, not a one of them working.

Men…

“Bloody sea demons.” Hook had a fierce look on his face.

Emma could faintly remember stories her mother had told her about mermaids; tales where they came to the aid of stranded sailors, mischievous yet helpful beings. She’d never depicted them as the devious creatures Hook was describing.

“Does their singing bother you?”

“Their siren song is like a drug to a man’s thoughts. It pulls at his very being until he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. I’ve seen many a man succumb to a mermaid’s cry; jump into the ocean only to be pulled to his death.”

Hook dragged himself away from the railing with, what seemed like, some difficulty and returned to the helm. The ship had begun to drift dangerously close to the lagoon. He turned the wheel sharply, steering them away from the mermaids and their deadly song, and Emma could hear their plaintive cries at the sight of the men leaving. Hook’s jaw was still clenched and she wondered if he’d ever been close to falling prey to the mermaids.

If he’d ever been one to jump.

Eighty-nine days

It was going to be an unbearably hot day, she just knew it. The near constant breeze on the water had stilled and there were no clouds in the sky to block the blazing sun. It was only a matter of time before things started to get miserable so when Hook mentioned them going to shore and resting in the shade, Emma jumped at the opportunity.

She relaxed in the shade of the Neverwood trees, dozing in and out of sleep for most of the morning, before deciding to go on a short walk down the beach. She passed a sleeping Hook and moved through the crewmembers that were scattered over the beach, lazing around, before finding a trail some ways down the beach and entering the woods.

The Neverwoods were different than the Tiki Forest – the forest was more like a jungle, while the Neverwoods were more like the traditional woodlands of the Enchanted Forest – although no less dangerous according to Hook. Emma liked the woods much better though; they were more open, making it easier to see farther than just a few feet into the woods. She was getting ready to turn back, figuring it was close to noon and time to eat, when she spotted a fruit tree just off the path.

She thought about what Hook had told her once before, about not straying from trails, but it was only a few feet away and she was terribly hungry and the fruit just looked so delicious and, really, what could go wrong? When the first couple steps off the path didn’t result in her untimely demise, she decided to admonish Hook later for being such a baby. Feeling arrogant, Emma reached for the fruit, not noticing the trip wire until it was too late.

When Emma awoke, she was laying on the ground staring up at a sky that no longer displayed a morning sun but a late afternoon sun. She was just beginning to try to piece together what had happened, when the sky was obscured by a circle of young boys that stood over her.

“Is she a bird?”

“She ain’t a bird, Tootles. That was Wendy.”

“But I thought you said Wendy wasn’t a bird.”

“She was at first and _then_ she turned into a mother.”

What?

Emma tried to make sense of what she was hearing and seeing, although she quickly abandoned trying to figure out what the boys were talking about; she didn’t even want to try to understand the relationship between birds and mothers. As for what she was seeing… since there were no other wild and deranged kids running around Neverland, the boys that stood above her must be Peter Pan and his Lost Boys.

She’d seen them on multiple occasions but only ever from the safety of the Jolly Roger and had yet to talk to one of them, which she’d figured wasn’t a bad thing because they seemed like wild and ferocious little things.

_“What on earth?” She mumbled it to herself, more stunned than anything to see what looked like a group of young boys on the distant shore. They danced and hopped around, dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, brandishing spears out towards the ship and yelling obscenities and threats._

_“The Lost Boys.”_

_He said it as if it wasn’t shocking in the least for there to be a dozen boys wandering around Neverland without any adult supervision, flaunting weapons and yelling curses._

_“Where’d they come from? How’d they get here?”_

_“There’s one among them calls himself Peter Pan. Told me once that he came here so long ago that he doesn’t even remember how; all he knows is Neverland.” Both of them watched the boys prance around. “For some reason, the little brat can fly. You flew with the help of Tinkerbell’s dust, but he’s different. It’s like the magic here is ingrained in him; he doesn’t need pixie dust to fly, he just does it.”_

_“And the others?”_

_“He brought them all here from another realm; some place without magic. Anyway, he’s in charge of the boys now, although his leadership abilities leave something to be desired.” She didn’t doubt that for a second as one boy pushed another, almost causing him to topple over the cliff. The sound of their laughter stretched across the water, as if the boy’s near death was merely an exciting turn of events in some game._

Slowly she moved to sit up, all of the boys jumping back and forming a line except for one slightly taller, sandy-haired boy that stood in front of the others. There were seven total, not a one of them looking older than ten or eleven. They stared at her curiously as if she were the most exotic thing they’d seen in years, which, when she thought about it, was probably true.

“What’s your name, pirate?” The slightly taller one in front asked the question and she assumed him to be Peter Pan.

“I’m not a pirate. And my name is Emma.”

“That’s a dumb name for a pirate.” This time it was a small, dark-haired boy that spoke. She noticed that he was holding a hand-carved flute and wondered if he’d managed to make it himself.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a pirate.”

When she’d first boarded the Jolly Roger, she’d had nothing more than the clothes on her back. Thankfully, Hook had a few items of women’s clothing – she didn’t really ask the particulars of how or why – in his cargo hold for her to wear. Seeing how he was a pirate, most of the clothes he’d had available for her to wear slightly resembled pirate-like attire, which was obviously not helping her case.

“Wait a minute – you’re a girl!” Well spotted, kid. “There’s no girls in Neverland, pirate.”

“I’m _not_ a pirate.”

“You’re big so you must be.” As if every adult was automatically a pirate. She once again had to stop and think that, to these boys, that was probably true – the only adults in Neverland were either Indians or pirates and she was evidently not an Indian.

“I promise you, I’m not a pirate.”

“Well if you ain’t a pirate, why were you with Captain Hook?” She didn’t even have time to answer before he continued. “Oh, I know – if you’re a girl, you must be his captive.”

“We can’t let her go back to Captain Hook, Pan.” She briefly thought that, since they believed her to be a captive, the curly-haired boy’s comment at least made partial sense. “We should steal her.”

Never mind.

Emma gritted her teeth in frustration. She was surrounded by irrational, thieving, sexist, ten year old boys.

“Good idea, Curly. I know - she’ll be Mother!” Emma blinked and stared blankly at Pan as all of the other boys cheered. “Oh, the cleverness of me!” To her surprise, Peter began to hover a few inches off the ground, a wide grin on his face, fully pleased with himself, before floating in circles around her.

“Mother?” She probably sounded stupid but she was in such shock at the boys’ absurd train of thought that it was hard to focus.

“You’ll read us stories and cook us food and make us feel better when we’re sick.” Pan looked fully pleased with his idea. “You’ll be Mother and I’ll be Father.” She doubted that his adolescent mind could fully comprehend what else being a mother and father entailed.

“Alright Lost Boys, if she’s to be Mother, she needs to come with us. To the Wendy House!” The boys exploded into activity, two identical boys coming up to loop their arms through hers and pull her into the woods. She dug her heels in, trying to resist their tugging, but when more of the boys began to pull, she realized it was a lost cause.

It was embarrassing, really – being kidnapped by children.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, lads.” Emma’s head whipped around at the familiar voice. She hadn’t even heard him approaching yet there he was, leaning casually against the tree fingering the hilt of the cutlass at his side.

“Hook!” One of the boys – she couldn’t tell who – yelled it out and suddenly Peter was the only one left, the others having fled into the jungle.

Emma was shocked at the turn of events. As she stared at the two remaining people, she came to three conclusions: (1) the Lost Boys were complete and utter cowards, (2) there was no great loyalty between them as they’d abandoned Peter to face Hook alone, and (3) Hook was highly amused by the whole kidnapping situation judging by the grin on his face.

“Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me?”

“This is our Mother, pirate – get your own!” To his credit, Peter at least looked brave as he jumped between the two adults and held out his small sword towards Hook.

At the boy’s words, Hook looked at her, seemingly on the verge of laughing at whatever mess she’d managed to get herself into, but she just shot him a glare that carried a very clear message – _don’t ask_.

Attention back on her would-be captor, Hook took a few intimidating steps towards the boy. “I don’t need a mother.” When he was close enough, he reached out and flicked the end of Peter’s blade. “You sure you want to do this, boy?”

“I’ll fight you! I’m not scared!”

“I’m not here to fight. I just want the lass.”

“She’s not a lass, she’s Mother.” Peter probably didn’t even know what a lass was.

“Well then your mother belongs to me.”

Emma almost choked, which was quite an accomplishment considering there was nothing in her mouth. “I do _not_ belong to you.” Hook shot her a look that visibly said she wasn’t helping the situation.

“Tell him you don’t want to be his captive anymore, Mother. Tell him you want to go with us.” The boy turned to her with an almost pleading look in his eyes that made her stop. While there was no way she would go with him and the Lost Boys, she couldn’t help but feel sad at knowing how badly they probably needed a parental figure.

Hook, however, must have been tired of the boy’s antics. He moved forward suddenly, Pan flying up and out of the way, before catching her arm. “Let’s go, _Mother_.” He was still struggling to hold back a laugh as he put as much emphasis into her new title as possible. Hook pulled her close, leaning his head over to murmur in her ear as he led them out of the forest. “Next time, stick to the trails like I told you.”

Emma didn’t respond, just watched as Peter hovered in the treetops and called out to her before flying away. “Don’t worry, Mother, we’ll find you!”

She hoped to whatever being could hear her that he wouldn’t.

They made it back to the Jolly Roger without any other mishaps, although Emma was tempted to physically maim Hook as he teased her about her newfound parental status. He wasn’t angry in the least at her unexpected capture; rather, he seemed overtly amused at the whole situation. Back aboard the ship, Emma sat in the cabin while Hook navigated them away from the coast and into deeper waters. It wasn’t until later that evening that she finally went to the helm to talk to him.

“Hook, why _aren’t_ there any girls in Neverland?” It seemed such a silly idea, that only boys could stay here.

“I’ve no idea, love. Just how it goes, I guess.” Emma sat with her back against the ship’s railings, watching the men on the lower deck as they laughed and drank, generally enjoying life. Hook dropped down to sit beside her. “I did ask Pan once, though.”

She looked at him then, a vision of the sandy-haired boy floating in circles around her coming to mind. “With all the nonsense he spouts, I’d be surprised if he could give you a logical answer.”

“No, he’s not exactly lucid.” He chuckled. “It was something along the lines of lost boys being children who fall out of their beds when their mothers aren’t looking.”

“What the… that makes no sense whatsoever. And _still_ doesn’t explain why there aren’t any girls.”

Hook smiled at her bewilderment. “Well, he said that girls are too clever to ever fall out of their beds and be lost in such a manner.”

“Oh, of course. Because when you put it like that...”

They both shared a laugh. The sky stretched out over her in the fading light and Emma wondered if there was anything else in this realm except the island or if the sea just went on forever. Maybe if they sailed long enough, they’d come to Tortuga. Suddenly, Emma felt a pang of longing so sharp that she winced – she missed her friend.

“I wish Ruby could’ve come with us to Neverland. She’d have loved this.”

“Ruby?”

Emma turned to Hook in surprise, ready to admonish him for forgetting her friend so quickly, but then she paused. She’d been about to say something… about a ruby? Why on earth would a ruby be her friend? That was ridiculous, something more likely to be said by the deranged Peter Pan. She was well past the age for make-believe friends, even if the gem would make a rather pretty one. But she was absolutely sure she’d been about to say something about a ruby…

“You’re bloody brilliant, Swan.” Hook moved quickly, leaning over her and pressing a quick kiss to her lips before jumping up to turn to his crew. Emma touched her lips absentmindedly as he spoke, stunned at the sudden kiss. “Listen up, lads. Get your rest because tomorrow we’re going to look for treasure. I’ve got a mind to find some rubies.”

He grinned at her over his shoulder and Emma couldn’t help but smile back. They would search the island for rubies – what an excellent idea. If they found some, Hook might even let her fashion some sort of necklace with one. She was surprised, though; most of the time it was Hook that came up with their adventures, came up with plans of what they would do next. She couldn’t help but feel pleased to have come up with such an exciting proposal.

But a frown passed over face when she realized she couldn’t quite remember exactly _how_ she’d come up with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how Peter Pan and the Lost Boys are all older in the OUAT episodes, but I really wanted to keep them young in this story.


	7. A Bedtime Story and A Drinking Game

_“I have a fire in my fingers and I want to believe in this, in me, in you and the way your eyes burn when you look at me.”_

* * *

“Have I ever told you the story of Neverland?”

Her father was seated on one side of her bed, ready to tell the bedtime story, while her mother sat on the other side, pulling the blankets up to Emma’s chin. She had just turned five about a month ago – which was _so_ much better than four – and thought she was a big girl now, but she still liked it when her parents told her stories.

“No, what’s Neverland?”

“It’s a magical place; an island in the middle of a great sea that’s filled with all sorts of things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Well, there are all sorts of animals – birds, monkeys, deer, bears, pigs, snakes. All the animals you could ever think of. There’s even a story of a great bird that flies over the island called the Neverbird.”

“And there are also mermaids.” It was her mother that spoke now and Emma’s eyes quickly shot to her. “Beautiful mermaids that play along the shores and help people that become lost at sea or fall in the water.”

“Who would need their help?”

“The Indians that live in Neverland, of course. There’s a whole tribe of them that have lived there since the beginning. They live in the Neverland Plains, a great grassland that stretches on for miles, where they ride horses and hunt. And sometimes they go to the sea and fish and swim and play with the mermaids.”

A vision of riding her very own horse – obviously it would be a paint because they were very pretty with their splotched colors – across the grassland all by herself, chasing after some wild animal, hung in her mind. Her father had let her ride his stallion a few times before but only while he held the reigns and led the tall animal. After the first ride, Emma had been persistent – because she was five and that was plenty old enough to do things on her own now – but her father had never relented.

“And do you know what the best part of Neverland is?”

Focus returned to the tale, Emma’s eyes were wide with delight; this was the best bedtime story she’d heard in ages. “What?”

“You never have to grow old. Anyone that lives in Neverland will stay young forever.”

Never have to grow up? To stay perpetually young and spend forever having fun, riding horses with the Indians and swimming with the mermaids. It all sounded so amazing, she could barely stand it.

“Oh, Dad, can we sail there? Please?” She’d been on one of the royal ships a couple times now, and it was always so much fun because she couldn’t see the land at all when they went very far out and if she stood at the very front of the ship she could sometimes see dolphins swimming in the water ahead of them.

“I would take you in an instant if I could, but Neverland isn’t a place you sail to.” Her father leaned in conspiratorially. “The only way to get there is to fly.”

“Fly?” She whispered the word, enthralled. Flying? How exciting!

“Yes, dear, you fly up in the sky, high as you can, and follow the second star to the right straight on ‘til morning.”

* * *

One hundred twelve days

Stars.

If Emma had to pick one thing that she loved most about being in Neverland, it would be the stars.

The deck was cold against her back as she laid at the bow of the Jolly Roger, legs dangling over the side of the ship, gazing up at them. Despite being a world away from the place where she first learned their names, she was still able to pick out the familiar constellations. If she blocked out the sea and the ship and the strange island, she could almost pretend she wasn’t in another realm.

Almost being the key word, though, since the stars were all shifted around in the sky.

Apparently, after travelling to the second star to the right and all that, one got a completely different perspective on the sky. Orion, which should be more or less directly above her, was scooted far to the left and down a ways. Still in the sky, just not in the right spot.

But wasn’t that the right spot? It must be… after all, it had been there every night for the past four months; Emma had seen it almost nightly with her own eyes. How could something that’s obviously there not be in the right spot? It wouldn’t _be_ there if it wasn’t the right spot.

But didn’t it used to be somewhere else…?

Emma blinked hard. Neverland played cruel tricks with a person’s mind; Hook had told her that. At the time, she wasn’t able to comprehend exactly how stealthy it was, never having been exposed to it. The key to Neverland’s magic wasn’t necessarily in making a person forget; Emma could recall certain memories just fine. It was when she tried to focus on particular aspects that everything got fuzzy.

She could remember running away as a child, but not where she’d run to. She could remember having a gorgeous friend with a feisty attitude, but not her name or how they’d met. She could remember working in a bar, but not what it looked like or what it was called. She could remember getting stabbed at some point, but not why.

It was as if actively delving into certain thoughts, anything that could be even remotely traced to wanting to return home, made them fade. It was disconcerting. To think of something and then it just be gone. Tinkerbell told her once that if she stayed here long enough, she would eventually forget everything; there was no real rhyme or reason to which memories were forgotten first, although the pixie had mentioned that the happier ones tended to be the first to go.

The stars twinkled. Emma always thought they shone brighter here than wherever she had been before this.

Or had she been in Neverland forever?

“You know, I never thought I’d find someone that enjoyed the stars as much as me until I met you.” Emma tilted her head back, finding Hook a few feet behind her leaning against a stack of crates. He wasn’t looking at her, though; his gaze was focused on the sky just as hers had been.

“I didn’t take you for a star-gazer, Hook.”

“I’m a pirate, love. It comes with the package.” She knew that; had spent more time than she cared to admit watching and admiring him as he navigated the ship based on the stars alone. When he finally looked at her, she couldn’t hold his gaze for long and turned back to her previous position. “So what compels you to watch the skies every night?”

“I like the stars.” The feeling of grass beneath her hands and being nestled against a warm body and of arms wrapped around her in an embrace floated through her head, but she didn’t know what they meant. “I think they remind me of someone.”

“And let me guess – you can’t remember who.” She frowned slightly as the conversation returned to the train of thought she’d had before his arrival and heard him walk towards her, boots loud against the wooden deck.

“I can remember things, but when I try to think about the things I’m remembering, I forget.” It sounded confusing but she knew he’d understand.

“And that, my dear…” Hook moved to lay beside her. “Is Neverland’s curse.”

“And yet you came back. I mean, you’ve spent time here before; doesn’t it bother you to always have trouble remembering?” Now that she understood the magic a little better, she couldn’t fathom why he would voluntarily come here knowing what this realm did.

He nodded slightly. “Sometimes I wish I could remember.” Then a strange look passed over his face and his voice dropped. “But sometimes it’s nice to forget.”

Emma was looking at him, staring at his profile, trying to memorize him in this moment. So much of their time together was spent on adventures through Neverland, times filled with fun and teasing. She rarely got to see Hook serious like this; the only other time being that day on the cliffs after a lesson.

Wait…

“I remember you.”

He turned to her then with a deep look on his face that she much preferred to the melancholy one from before. Nothing about him had faded, not a single moment of their time together, although she didn’t quite understand how or why. Every memory that came to mind was still perfectly clear.

“I remember meeting you and you saving my life. All of our talks. The lessons. Your stupid innuendos. I remember choosing to go to you when I was stabbed.”

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. That profound look was still on his face as he stared at her, and she was almost mesmerized by how brilliant his eyes were in that moment. They seemed to change based on any given situation and were now a brighter, icy-blue. Everything felt so concentrated, and Emma couldn’t take it.

“Don’t get a big head or anything.”

And the moment was broken. Picking up on her cues, Hook relaxed, his face easing into a slight smirk, and Emma was glad to be back on familiar ground again.

“They’ll fade, same as everything else, in time. Although, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you harbored some sort of affection for me.”

She snorted a laugh. “Well I guess it’s a good thing you know better. I’d hate for you to go around thinking something that wasn’t true.”

“I’ve obviously made an impression on you, love. Of all the things in the world for you to still remember, you remember me.”

The accustomed repartee put her at ease in a way few other things could. Over their time together, she’d come to realize that Hook used his innuendos and teasing comments in more than one way. Obviously, he used them to flatter women – she knew he meant every word he said and would most likely make good on his suggestions if she ever decided to take him up on an offer – but they were also used as a buffer in conversations; a natural way to ease tension or redirect the discussion from a potentially unwanted topic.

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. Maybe Neverland’s curse is really that it only allows you to remember the things that annoy you the most.” It was a pretty slick retort, if she did say so herself, and she met his smirk with one of her own.

“Admit it – you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

At that, she gave him a dubious look even though she knew he could read through her snubs far too easily; he’d always been able to call her bluff. He cut off any reply she might have had, though, when he leaned over and kissed her.

He’d kissed her occasionally since their first one in his cabin – it seemed like a lifetime ago – before setting sail for Neverland, although he never pushed her any farther than that. Some were chaste and gentlemanly, some were demanding and wild. Some were so innocent they would startle her, some were so passionate they would leave her winded.

This one was soft and slow.

His mouth was moving gently against hers and his fingertips were softly tracing the outside of her ear and his chest was almost touching hers and they were practically out in the open for everyone to see…

And she found she didn’t care.

One hundred fifty days

To be honest, the sea serpent had come out of nowhere. The Jolly Roger had been anchored off the shore near Crocodile Creek – because Hook just _had_ to kill a crocodile – when the creature attacked. The suctioned tentacles that crept over the sides of the ship had immediately brought to mind frightening stories she’d heard about the kraken. Thankfully, this monster was nowhere near the gigantic proportion of the beast from the tales, but it still did a number on the ship.

In the end, they managed to drive the serpent away, but not without sustaining a few casualties. Several men sported cuts and scrapes and one had been dragged overboard to his death. Emma and Hook had fared fairly well, at least until Emma had fallen overboard.

She’d been fighting with a particularly nasty tentacle, choosing to climb some of the rigging to gain an elevated advantage, and was just starting to gain the upper hand when the creature slammed into the ship, the sudden movement causing her to lose her grip and fall into the water. From what the men told her, Hook had jumped to her rescue, pulling her to safety just as the rest of the crew finally drove the serpent away.

While Emma emerged relatively unscathed, Hook suffered a nasty cut from his momentary lapse in attention at her fall and what seemed like the beginnings of a cold from the freezing water he’d jumped into. She felt awful, really, since both of his conditions were technically her fault. That’s why she was currently forcing him to rest in his cabin while she tended to his injury.

“I rather enjoy you taking care of me, love. You truly are a woman of many talents. And look, this one can even be related to a bedroom.”

Let it be known that being sick and injured did nothing to dampen Hook’s personality.

“You’re hopeless.” She pressed the damp cloth to his forehead, cleaning away the dried blood to better inspect the cut; that’s when she noticed the fever. “And you’re hot…”

“Well it’s about time – I thought you’d never notice.”

Emma gave him a severe look. Her body already felt sore from the fighting and climbing and swimming; how he had the ability to flirt right now was beyond her. “You have a fever, a high one. You need to stay here and rest until it passes.”

His playfulness melted away. “No, no, no. I’m not staying in bed like an invalid.” He tried to sit up but she simply pushed him back down, the ease of it being a testament to how bad he must really feel.

“You’re in no condition to be out on deck. The more you rest, the quicker you’ll get better. I’ll let the crew know and we’ll drop anchor somewhere until you’re better. They’re more than capable of repairing the ship.” She reached for the bowl of soup the cook had whipped up for her. “Now eat this.” With a stubborn glare, he grabbed the bowl and began to eat, while she returned her focus to the cut.

“You’re a tough lass. You’d make one hell of a pirate.”

She didn’t know what to say so she remained silent, pressing a piece of gauze to his wound and beginning to wrap it. His slight wince didn’t escape her notice.

“Does it hurt very much?”

“It’s _throbbing_.” And it sounded dirty because it was Hook who said it.

She rolled her eyes with a soft laugh; he had this unfailing ability to make anything sound perverted. “Yeah, you’re going to be fine. Finish that soup and I’ll come check on you later.” She turned to him before she closed the door, giving him a warning look. “And don’t even think about getting up or leaving this cabin.”

“I love it when you order me around, Swan.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

One hundred ninety-eight days

“I think you’re right, Cap’n. Women just can’t hold their liquor.”

Emma sat with her back against the mast, doing her best to ignore Hook and his crew’s taunts and gritting her teeth; if she were a dog, her fur would be bristling at this point.

It was one of those days where it was minutes away from snowing and as the day turned to night, the crew had decided that a drinking game would be the best way to warm everyone up. It hadn’t taken much to convince Hook to play but then they all ganged up on her.

“Come on, Swan – prove us wrong.”

“Show us how a real woman drinks.”

“Unless you think you can’t handle it, love.”

The last comment came from Hook, playing at her stubbornness and pride. With a frustrated growl, Emma stood up, throwing the blanket she’d been covered with to the deck, and stomped over to the circle of men before flopping down to join them. She tried her best to hide the smile she felt as the men cheered at her presence.

It turned out to be a relatively easy game, something involving coins behind bounced into mugs, and Emma was surprised to find she did fairly well. The crew teamed up with her to focus all their efforts on getting their captain wasted – which by the end of the game was a complete success and quite hilarious as she’d never seen Hook that drunk – and they spent the rest of the evening casually drinking, eating, and laughing so much that her cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

It was late when Hook moved from the small group he was in to sit by her. He sat close, his shoulder lightly bumping against hers. He wasn’t as drunk as he’d been earlier, having had some time to sober up, but she knew he was still intoxicated. He handled it well, though; much better than she was. She’d had to slow down, taking sips instead of gulps, a couple hours back, but the alcohol was still affecting her. He talked with the men she’d been sitting with for a while before he turned to speak only to her.

“It’s getting late. One more drink before we call it a night? I think I have something in my cabin.”

It _was_ late. Her eyes felt heavy with drowsiness; or maybe that was from the alcohol. She couldn’t really tell. His comment sounded something like a bad pickup line – how convenient that the alcohol was in a secluded cabin away from everyone else – but she knew he hadn’t meant it that way and wondered if it was a bad thing that she could now tell the difference between when he was insinuating something and being genuine.

“Ok.”

He stared at her in surprise. “You gave into that far quicker than I expected, love.”

“Only because I’m cold and it’s bound to be warmer in your cabin than out here.” Which was partially true.

“And if it’s not, we can find some kind of activity to warm it up.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the typical response as they both stood up and made their way to his quarters. “I should’ve seen that one coming.”

“If you didn’t, you’ve learned absolutely nothing about me in the almost three years we’ve known each other.”

“Oh, it didn’t take me long to figure you out, Hook.” He opened the door to his cabin for her and she tried to ignore the feeling of his hand against the small of her back as she passed him. “You’re just one big, walking innuendo.”

He managed to look at her, feigning affront, before pulling out two bottles from a desk drawer and waving them in her direction. “Whiskey or rum?”

“Rum.” Whiskey had always done atrocious things to her decision-making abilities and that was the last thing she needed to happen around Hook, especially when alcohol in general seemed to heighten her every sense.

He dropped the whiskey bottle back in the drawer with a genuine smile. “That’s my girl.”

Handing her the mug, he returned to sit in the chair at his desk rather than beside her on the couch as she’d expected. He leaned back, balancing the chair on two legs, with one foot propped against the leg of the desk and she couldn’t help but think he looked unbearably attractive.

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. “Can I ask you a question, love?” Automatically bracing herself for whatever he had in mind, she nodded. “Do you ever miss it? Being a barmaid, I mean.”

She hadn’t known what question to expect from him but that certainly wasn’t it. It took her a moment to recall the years spent in the bar, had to pull them out of Neverland’s grasp, but then the memories were clear. “You mean do I miss men harassing me and touching me and trying to get me to go home with them?” She paused. “Sometimes.”

“That’s a scandalous admission, Miss Swan. One might be inclined to think that you were somewhat less than virtuous.” She smiled and cocked an eyebrow at his snooty tone. “And did you ever go home with any of those men?”

“I was a barmaid, Hook, not a saint. That would be like me asking if you’d ever taken a woman from a tavern to bed.”

He returned her smile and took a drink. “Fair enough.”

They settled into silence and a couple thoughts popped into her head. They weren’t saying anything and were already into a semi-personal conversation so Emma took a few drinks of rum knowing she’d need some more liquid courage to ask what was really on her mind.

“Can I ask _you_ something?”

“Ask away, milady.” Hook’s tone was flippant but they both knew that her question would be anything but.

“What revenge do you seek? I heard it mentioned during my time with the pixies.”

He’d gone very still, eyes falling to the tattoo on his forearm. So this revenge had to do with Milah… he’d said she’d died but Emma now had a feeling that wasn’t the whole truth. When he spoke, his voice was low and solemn.

“I met Milah in a tavern in the Enchanted Forest a long time ago. She was deeply unhappy, married to a coward, and came to me before I left town to beg me to take her away. Her husband wasn’t even willing to fight for her.” Emma knew next to nothing about this woman but felt a deep understanding at her desire to escape. “I have no use for cowards.”

His voice had turned darker, angrier, at his last few words and she wondered if that statement was the crux of Captain Hook.

“So I took her with me. I liked her well enough at first, but over time I grew to love her. She was different. Not your typical, demure maiden; no, she was wild and free… full of life. She’d been dying in that town, everything about it stifled her, but out there on the sea… that was where she belonged.”

He grew quiet, eyes dark, and he took a long drink of rum. “What happened to her?”

“He killed her.” His eyes shot to hers. “He _murdered_ her.”

“Who?” The question was barely audible.

“Turns out, while we were sailing the seas, her husband had become the Dark One. We met by chance one day, several years after Milah had come with me, and when he found out that she had willingly left him instead of been forced as he’d believed, he was furious. So he tied me to the mast, pulled out her heart, and crushed it right in front of me.”

Emma’s chest was tight. She couldn’t breathe.

“I had to stand there and watch her die.”

“So your revenge… you wanted to find a way to kill the Dark One?” Emma had heard stories of the Dark One – Rumplestiltskin, they called him. He’d been exiled, sent to a far off corner of the land when her parents had defeated the Evil Queen.

“Aye. But he’s damn near immortal and I’m just a man. That’s when I came to Neverland for the second time.” She recalled him mentioning that he’d been to this realm twice. “I came to the only place where I had all the time in the world to plan my revenge.”

“And how long did you stay in Neverland?”

“Somewhere close to three hundred years.”

Three hundred years. Three _hundred_ years. Now it made sense why he was so damned good at everything – he’d had multiple centuries to practice. Which really wasn’t fair at all but that was beside the point because _three hundred years_.

“I was here for so long with nothing to do but think about how angry I was, how much I wanted to kill Rumplestiltskin. My need for revenge very nearly consumed me.”

_“And anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark… I wouldn’t have you see me dark like that, Emma.”_

Those words made more sense to her now.

“Eventually, I heard of a dagger; it’s the only thing that can kill the imp so I returned to the Enchanted Forest to find it.”

“Did you?” But she felt she already knew the answer.

“No.”

And that’s where it ended. His deepest secret. The thing that had always gone unmentioned in their past moments of sharing. He’d fallen in love, watched her die, and then spent an eternity searching for a way to avenge her death only to still come up short. It was tragic.

She stood up and walked towards Hook; he was still leaning back in the chair and his eyes followed her movement. She stopped in front of him, leaning against the edge of the desk near his foot with his other leg only a couple feet in front of her own, and stared down at him for a moment.

“You know of King Charming and Queen Snow?” The words were out before her brain had time to process the decision of whether or not to say it. There was no going back now. She fiddled with the still half-full mug in her hands and stared over his head into the cabin, too afraid to meet his eyes, but could see him nod in her peripheral vision. “I’m their daughter.”

She glanced at him hesitantly and saw him staring at her with a blank look that might have been the least amount of expression she’d ever seen on his face.

“Love, the princess has been missing for years. She disappeared when she was…”

“Twelve.” Emma cut in. “But she didn’t disappear so much as run away.” At the shadow that moved across his face, she knew he remembered their conversation on the cliffs.

“You’re…” His brow was furrowed and he seemed to have trouble processing the information. “So you’re saying that _you’re_ the long lost princess?”

“Guilty.”

“If you really are the princess, why would you run away? Life as a royal shouldn’t leave you wanting for much.”

“Actually, it left me wanting for a great deal. Money, fancy clothes, jewelry, parties… they were all trivial and completely pointless things that I didn’t want. Being able to wear trousers and hunting shirts, learning how to use a bow and protect myself, knowing how to survive outside of the palace walls – those are practical things that actually come in handy. What use are dresses and trinkets?”

“Well, they can be quite valuable to a pirate. I’ve brought in some good money from stolen valuables.” Emma gave him a hard look and he quickly added to his statement. “But that’s different.”

“What I wanted was a chance to live. I wasn’t allowed to do anything; I couldn’t even do something as simple as walk around town without someone hovering over me. They controlled every aspect of my life.” As she spoke, Emma could see Hook’s countenance change as he began to take her words as truth. “I told you before how they had everything planned out for me. I was only twelve – twelve – but I was already betrothed, promised to some prince to be married on my eighteenth birthday. My parents were the bloody definition of true love yet they were forcing me into an arranged marriage.”

“And so you decided to run away.”

“My mother told me about my betrothal on my birthday. I can still remember how betrayed I felt…” The unexpected slap and the way her cheek lightly stung afterwards. “It was the last straw. So I left. Packed my bags, bought my way onto a trading ship, and set sail for someplace far outside the reach of my parents. Some place where no one would recognize me.”

“A princess – one that had everything a person could ever ask for at her disposal – abandons her birthright and runs away, settling in Tortuga to work as a barmaid.”

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

“You could’ve stayed; tried to convince them to reconsider.”

“If you had the chance to change your fate, would you?” And he didn’t even have to answer because she already knew the circumstances surrounding his young life. Hook had told her how his father had abandoned him, how the people that had taken him tried to train him for a life as a blacksmith but he didn’t want it, deciding to leave for a life on the seas instead.

They were so very much alike.

The chair legs hit the floor and he set his tankard on the floor before standing up. There wasn’t very much room between them to start with, but Emma pushed away from the desk at his movement, coming closer to him. They’d both had an unwanted life ahead of them, had chosen to take control of their future, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same connection with her as she did with him.

He was gazing at her and his eyes were dark; she recognized that hungering look. Breaking eye contact, she looked down between them at the mug still gripped in her hands only to find them shaking. The air felt like heavy, the sexual tension suddenly so thick it was almost tangible, the energy of it crackling like electricity.

She raised the mug to her mouth, downing the liberal amount of rum that remained. While she had been tipsy before, still feeling some of the aftereffects of the drinking game, now the rum raced through her body, quickly pushing her far past mild inebriation. Her mind felt fuzzy, vision slightly blurry, and body impossibly languorous but Hook was looking at her intensely and she couldn’t think of anything except that she wanted him.

So with a confidence borne only through her drunken state, she grabbed for Hook, gripping the lapels of his jacket, and crashed her lips to his.

It was the first time she’d ever made the move to kiss him and he paused – she’d like to think in shock or surprise – for a moment before responding, wrapping his left arm around her back while his right hand cupped her head. She felt like she was burning. Every time he’d ever touched her she’d experienced heat, and now she could feel the fire that followed in the wake of his hand as it moved down her side to settle at her waist.

They kissed roughly, her back arching as he leaned into her. In response, she pushed against his lips, fighting him for dominance, and a noise rumbled through his chest at the challenge. He began to walk her backwards until she felt the desk press against her backside. The hand that had been at her waist strayed lower now, moving down and around to the back of her thigh, and she felt the pressure as he pulled on her leg. She knew what he wanted and ended the kiss long enough to scoot up onto his desk.

Following her, he stepped into the space she’d vacated, standing between her legs now, and pressed his hips to hers in the way she desperately craved. “Gods, Emma.” His voice was tight, like it would snap under the pressure they were creating. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

If it was anything like what he did to her, she understood and had felt the same for far too long. Their many layers of clothing did nothing to stop the searing heat she felt. He was grinding against her and it was _wonderful_ because she positively ached for him and couldn’t seem to touch him enough.

Some distant part of her mind snidely mentioned she should have done this a long time ago and Emma was so far gone that she was inclined to agree. “I want you. Now.” It was a plea – she needed him so bad – and he all but growled at her words.

She pushed at his clothing, shoving the leather jacket to the floor before reaching for the clasps of his vest, undoing the fastenings urgently while his hand worked at the laces of her bodice. He smelled like a tantalizing mixture of rum and leather and sex and her mind felt like it was literally drowning in a haze of drunken lust.

“You’re drunk.”

And she was; swimming in a sea of inebriation. She’d spent so long trying to convince herself that this was wrong, that they were wrong, that now she wanted nothing more than to give in to the absolute sensation of right. When sober, her mind constantly worked against her, but drunk… being able to place blame on the rum would make it so much easier to rationalize sleeping with him.

The clasps came free and he shrugged out of the vest just as she pulled the shirt over his head. It was unfair, really, how attractive Hook was. Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of lean muscle that came from years of hard work, the scars that were scattered across his skin, and the hair that tapered into a dark line and descended past the waistband of his pants.

“Who cares?”

It was cold in the cabin – although she couldn’t really tell how cold with the fire rushing through her – and their shallow pants created puffs of smoke in the chilly air. He’d given up on her top for the moment, content to grind his hips against hers, as she leaned forward to press her lips to the hollow of his throat before trailing a line of kisses down his chest, nipping at him and causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

As her hands drifted to the front of his pants, she felt his whole body jerk before his hand and hook settled on her shoulders and he pulled away. Her fingers dangled in the now empty air between them, mind still reeling from the combination of the alcohol and desire, but she tried to focus as he held her at arm’s length.

“What’s wrong?”

He was breathing heavily and seemed to struggle with the words. “I’m absolutely sure I’ve never said this in my life, but I think we need to stop.” He gave her a grim smile that told her exactly how hard it was for him to say that.

She felt a slight stab of rejection and it caused her words to come out sounding bitter. “You don’t want this?”

He gave a pained laugh. “On the contrary, love, I want this very badly.” His eyes wandered over her face. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in longer than I can remember. But I’m a gentleman. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a drunken lady.”

“For some reason, I find it very hard to believe you’ve never had drunk sex before.” Of all times for him to be chivalrous, he had to choose now when she wanted nothing more than to sleep with him?

“While that is true, I don’t want that with you.” He released his grip on her shoulders and ran his hand through her hair. “When you decide to stop resisting me, resisting us, I want it to be a sober and willing decision. I want you to remember choosing me, I want you to remember wanting me to take you, and I want you to remember every detail of it the next morning.”

Slightly angry, exhausted, and sexually frustrated beyond belief, Emma glowered at him. She was flat out drunk, could tell it by the way everything moved entirely too slow when she turned her head and how the room seemed to subtly shift around her, but that didn’t change the fact that she wanted him.

“I think it’s time to go to bed.”

He came forward, picking her up off the desk as if she weighed nothing and carrying her to the couch. In one last effort, she wrapped her legs around his waist, wound her arms around his neck, and sought his lips, but he set her down before she could reach them.

“You’re a constant test of my self-control, woman.”

“I don’t want self-control right now.” She was still attempting to chip away at his resolve even as she settled into the couch.

He chuckled and pulled the blanket over her. “Of that I am obviously, and right now somewhat painfully, aware.”

Everything was catching up to Emma now, the ceiling spinning dizzily over her head, and her eyes felt so very heavy. Like whiskey, copious amounts of rum also appeared to do atrocious things to her decision-making abilities. “I’m not going to remember this in the morning, am I?” Her question was soft.

“Most likely not, love.” Hook was brushing her hair away from her face soothingly. “And even if you do, I’m sure you’ll deny it and go right back to resisting me.”

“Mmm… only because you scare me.”

He seemed confused by her confession. “And when have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?”

Her speech was starting to slur and his gentle caress was putting her to sleep. “Not scared _of_ you; scared of myself _with_ you. I’m scared to let go.”

Hook said something then, but she couldn’t make out the words as sleep claimed her.

One hundred ninety-nine days

The next morning, Emma awoke with a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and a full memory of what had happened the night before; the only missing piece being his last words as she’d fallen asleep. The other details burned in her mind clear as day, everything from their personal conversation to each searing kiss and touch.

However, true to Hook’s word, she played dumb, pretending to remember their entire discussion but nothing past the point of her downing the last of her rum right before they kissed. Omitting the second half of the night just felt safer.

She was unsure whether he believed her when she’d told him how little she remembered.

She had a feeling he didn’t.


	8. A Roommate and a Suitor

_“Hark, now hear the sailor’s cry – smell the sea and feel the sky – let your soul and spirit fly.”_

* * *

“So, I’m really thinking we should get a place together.” Ruby didn’t even look up as she stated this, intent on painting her nails a bright shade of red. “I’m tired of living with Dad and August. I told him I was old enough to be on my own, but he’s always so worried. Not that I can blame him, really; I mean, we do live in Tortuga.”

The two barmaids were in Emma’s room on the second floor of the inn. It was late, almost two in the morning, but their evening in the bar had been so hectic the girls had decided to unwind for a while upstairs with their very own bottle of wine before Ruby headed home for the night. The wine did a fantastic job at relaxing them, and now Emma sat on the bed watching as Ruby, seated on the floor, painted her fingernails.

“That’s why we should live together. You’ll have company and I’ll get away from daddy dearest and overbearing older brother without them being too worried.”

“Oh, yes, Ruby. That way both of us can get accosted at the same time.” Emma was joking but at the same time, wasn’t. Women were always running into some kind of trouble in Tortuga; that was the danger of living in a port town. “Living together, we’re like a two-for-one deal.”

Ruby waved her hand impatiently. “We’ll be fine. Everyone in this town knows we can take care of ourselves.”

“Yeah, when we’re in a bar surrounded by drunk men that do well to walk straight. They don’t really pose much of a challenge.”

The brunette nodded absentmindedly as she blew on her nails. “True, but I have to get out of there. All of us living under one roof… it’s just too much. I mean, really, I’m twenty-two; I shouldn’t still be living with my family. And you know what they say – three’s a crowd.”

“I’m pretty sure that phrase only applies to dating… or sex.”

“Unless that’s what you’re in to.” Emma had heard plenty of women from the brothels talk about sleeping with either multiple men or women at the same time. “And even then, it can’t be as much fun for the third person. There’s always the extra person left out to watch until it’s their turn.”

“You talk about it like you know from experience.” Ruby gave a suggestive grin as she twisted the cap back on the polish bottle and Emma waved her hands to prevent anything else from being said. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

Finished with her nails, Ruby moved from the floor to the bed and sat by Emma. “Seriously, though, you know we would be fine. And what’s more, we’d have a good time. I couldn’t think of anyone better to live with.”

“What about what’s-his-name – Graham?”

Flopping back onto the bed dramatically, the brunette gave an exaggerated sigh. “God, he’s gorgeous… but you know I can’t.” Ruby was notorious for one-night stands and had developed her own set of rules for dealing with the situations, the wisdom of which she’d imparted on Emma not long after they’d started working as the barmaids for The Salty Dog Inn.

_“Emma, you have to remember three things. One, men are only after one thing – sex. They want it and they can’t do it very well without us so when these guys hit on you, don’t let yourself get flattered because they’re only on a mission._

_“Two, never stay the night. Things can be awkward enough immediately afterwards but they’re downright miserable the morning after. It’s really hard to play things cool when you wake up and realize the guy’s been holding you all night._

_“Which leads to number three, keep your heart and mind out of it. If you ever go with any of these guys, keep it casual. It’s just sex. You can give them your body but nothing else. Because if you do… trust me, they’ll only break it.”_

Very few men were able to keep Ruby’s attention once the sex was over. Ten minutes; that was usually all the time it took for her to get dressed, clean up, and get the hell out. No touching, sweet-talking, or kissing was allowed because her rules were absolute. That’s why the fact that she was still hung up on this Graham guy was really something.

“What is it about this guy? You’ve only known him for a couple months yet you’re almost always thinking about him. What does he do to keep your interest?”

“Besides throwing me across his bed and having his way with me every time we’re together?”

“That should be every guy you leave with; unless you do something with them that I don’t.”

“It’s more than that. I mean, he’s absolutely gorgeous and his accent his sexy as hell, which on its own is enough to get me going, but the things he did... His hands – god, Emma – his hands were incredible.”

“Spare me the dirty details, please.” It was pure sarcasm because Emma already knew all of the details. Ruby had a penchant for talking about every bit of her sex life, something she’d finally pulled from Emma as well.

“But really, great sex aside, he was actually a gentleman.” It was surprising because not many of the men available in Tortuga could even come close to being labeled as gentlemanly. “He’s never asked me to stay, almost like he knows I can’t, and he always offers to walk me home afterwards.”

Ruby sat there with a wistful look and a small smile that Emma had never really seen before. It was different and completely unexpected. “He sounds nice compared to the other guys we usually have to choose from.”

“I like him, Emma.” It came out broken, a crestfallen and disappointed whisper. “I know I shouldn’t. It goes against everything I’ve ever told myself, but I can’t help it.”

Emma had been nineteen the first time she’d slept with someone. It had been an unusually slow night, which had given the guy more than enough time to talk her up at the bar. She’d ended up sleeping with him – Baelfire was his name – and they’d had a fling for a couple months before he’d up and disappeared. Ruby had warned her in the beginning not to get in over her head, but Emma had brushed it off thinking she had everything under control. She didn’t realize how wrong she was until he was gone and she was heartbroken.

So yes, Emma knew from experience how scary it was to feel something more for someone else, but she could also tell how much Ruby was into this guy. And if she was actually willing to admit that she liked him… well, he might be worth pursuing.

“Why don’t you give him a chance? Maybe he’ll prove you wrong.”

“But what if he proves me right?”

Guarding your heart was one of the most important things a person could do in Tortuga. People came and went and relationships were frivolous, insensitive things that could break a person if allowed to. Emma knew without a doubt that, no matter how Ruby felt about Graham, she’d never willingly open up to him. Instead, she would stick to her rules because the rules were safe and kept her from getting hurt.

It was time to change the subject.

“I think there are a couple bigger rooms available on the third floor.” The relief in Ruby’s smile was unmistakable; she wasn’t ready to think too hard on this Graham guy no matter how much she liked him. “There’d be more than enough room for the both of us.”

“When can we move in?”

* * *

Two hundred seventeen days

Emma sat on the lower deck, legs crossed, intently studying the length of rope in her hands, willing it to rework and tie itself into something that resembled the knot that sat in front of her as an example. With a sigh of frustration, she glanced up at the pirate that sat across from her. The pirate’s name was Mullins and, of all the men aboard the Jolly Roger, he seemed the most pirate-like, if only because of his eye patch, crimson bandana, and navy and white striped attire. Ironically enough, he was also one of the nicest.

Currently, he was trying to teach her how to tie a rather complicated sailing knot. The long piece of rope was wound around itself multiple times in multiple directions, looped at the end so it could be attached to a hook, and then twisted around itself a few more times for good measure. To Emma, it just looked like a confusing mess.

“I’ll show you again, milady.”

None of the pirates, excluding Hook, knew of her royal background, but they’d always insisted on calling her either milady or lass. Thinking of Hook’s various pet names, she was inclined to think that avoiding a person’s given name was just a pirate thing.

Surprisingly enough, Hook had taken her confession of being a princess in stride; Emma could remember telling someone before – a fleeting image of long brunette hair and red lips – and getting a very different reaction. It had been a while now since that particular night, but Hook had made few mentions of their talk, which she supposed also had something to do with him not particularly wanting his confession brought up again.

Emma tried to pay attention as Mullins worked at the knot, but her eyes kept straying up to Hook who stood at the helm.

He’d loved her – Milah. Loved her enough to spend three hundred years in Neverland in search of a way to avenge her. That kind of devotion was hard to find and was especially surprising to have appeared in a pirate. She’d always imagined him to be just… well, Hook. Pirate captain, scourge of the seas, plundering and marauding and generally causing mayhem wherever he went. And he was that, the pirate that she imagined him to be.

But before that, he’d been Killian Jones.

A pirate captain that plundered and marauded and caused mayhem… all with a woman he loved by his side. Until he lost her.

Emma was still staring when his eyes found hers and he gave her a roguish smile followed by a wink, completely unaware of how deeply she was thinking about him.

“Alright, lass, your turn.”

Mullins had finished and was now looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to attempt the knot again. She worked with the rope, looping it and tying it in the same manner Mullins had done, but when it came to the end and she pulled the rope tight, it all unraveled in her hands. A laugh came from the direction of the helm, which she pointedly ignored.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.”

With a chuckle, Mullins stood up and walked off and Emma threw the failed knot to the side with a glower. It really wasn’t necessary for her to know that knot; she’d just been curious; she was still coming up with excuses for her failure when she heard a voice behind her.

“Mother!”

Bloody hell… there were only a few people that would call her mother and only one that would have been able to get to the ship floating in the middle of the sea.

Emma turned to the voice and saw Peter Pan. His hair was windswept, eyes bright, and there was a beaming smile on his face as he floated a few inches above the deck. “Mother, we’ve missed you! Now that you’re done making silly knots, will you come play with us?”

She’d happened across Pan and his Lost Boys a few times since their first encounter, although they now seemed to understand that kidnapping her wasn’t the best way to get her to go with them. Now, they seemed resigned to simply try and spend time with her, although that might only be because Hook was nearby in all their reunions, a constant reminder and natural deterrent of kidnapping. However, they never stopped asking.

“I can’t go with you, Pan; I have to stay here.”

He stuck out his tongue childishly and frowned. “You _never_ play with us anymore.” Really, it had only been one time. She’d spent an afternoon teaching them a game that involved hitting a coconut with a stick and then running around four bases, and since then they’d begged her to show them more. “Is it because you’re trying to find a way home?”

What?

She’d meant she needed to stay aboard the ship with Hook, but images flashed through her mind at Pan’s question. A shining palace where there was a blonde man with a nice smile and a dark-haired woman with a gentle hug. A dimly-lit room filled with men and the smell of alcohol. A small bedroom where a girl talked and laughed.

What was home? Wasn’t Neverland her home?

“The longer you stay in Neverland, the more you forget. Stay here long enough and you’ll forget everything from before you came. Then you’ll never want to go home, and you’ll stay here forever playing games, and you’ll be just like us – one of the Lost Boys. Only not a Lost Boy because you’re Mother.”

It had only meant to be a short visit. Save her life, show her a few places in Neverland, and then leave. But how long had they been here now? One of the crewmembers had been keeping track, notching the days out on an old piece of driftwood, but she’d never paid much attention to it.

“So are you ready to play? You can teach us a new game.” He was reaching for her hand, but she pulled away absentmindedly.

“Jukes, get that boy off the ship.” It seemed Hook had finally noticed Pan at the head of the ship.

She was still confused, trying to figure out what was more real, these faint images that seemed almost like memories or Neverland. “Not… not today.”

“Oh ok, maybe next time. Bye, Mother!”

With a mischievous grin, Peter flew up into the air and away towards the island before the pirate could even come close. As she watched him go, she felt all traces of their conversation drift away like smoke until she couldn’t really remember what it was they’d been talking about.

Two hundred forty-six days

“This is all your fault, Hook.”

“And how, exactly, is this my fault, love?”

“If you hadn’t offended Tiger Lily, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“Offended her? The only way to avoid that would have been to sleep with her.”

Hook had turned to her at the accusations but Emma stubbornly looked the other way. Or at least as far as she could considering she and Hook were firmly secured to two wooden posts and couldn’t move very much.

_The day had started out normally enough. Emma had spent the morning alternating between fishing and helping the crew scrub the decks before deciding to climb up to the crow’s nest. It was a small area with barely enough room for one person and was ridiculously high, making the climb more than little perilous, but it offered spectacular views and something that was very hard to come by on the pirate-laden ship – privacy._

_She had been leaning on the edge of the box when the ship rounded a bluff and she spotted it – the Neverland Plains. It was a part of the island she had yet to explore. She’d clambered back down the rigging, nearly falling multiple times in her haste, to ask if they could go ashore, and Hook had agreed, dropping anchor and rowing the two of them in on the small rowboat._

_They’d only been in the grassland for a few minutes when they came across a young woman. Dark brown hair plaited in two braids that fell over each shoulder, fringed animal skin dress, blue headband with what looked like an eagle feather stuck in the back… she was lovely. It looked like she’d been collecting grains when she noticed them and stood up, looking startled, her eyes wide._

_Emma had still been debating on whether or not she would flee when the woman ran up to Hook and kissed him._

_It shouldn’t have shocked her, really. Hook was a pirate and, although they’d never talked about it in detail, she wasn’t naïve enough to assume that he hadn’t shared his bed with plenty of women. She just wasn’t expecting to find one here in Neverland._

_The girl’s arms were wrapped around Hook’s neck and she was kissing him passionately, but his eyes were opened wide and Emma thought that at least he had the decency to look surprised. She tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted because she was not jealous._

_Nope._

_Not at all._

_After a moment, the girl pulled away and began to jabber incessantly in a foreign language that Emma couldn’t follow. Hook was still staring at the girl, seemingly frozen, as she talked and gestured and touched him – why was she touching him? – before moving in to kiss him once more._

_For the love of…_

_Emma sighed, cocking her eyebrow at the display. Finally, Hook grabbed the girl’s shoulders and pulled away, instantly finding Emma’s eyes and giving her what looked like an apologetic smirk. She spent some time pondering how on earth he could make a smirk even look apologetic – because, really, they were completely different expressions – before realizing the native girl was glaring at her, face twisted in an ugly scowl, obviously upset at losing Hook’s attention._

_Without warning, she turned back to Hook and began to shout at him all while hitting at his chest angrily and pointing at Emma. The commotion didn’t last long because it turned out that the girl was Tiger Lily, daughter of the chieftain, and had guards who came running at her yells._

The Indians’ spears pricking uncomfortably at their throats had quickly convinced them to surrender, and they’d been bound, drug back to camp, and secured to posts where they’d been now for about thirty minutes. A large group of the natives huddled some distance away, speaking in the same foreign language and gesturing towards the two prisoners, and Emma wondered what was taking them so long to do… whatever they were going to do with them.

“Do you have any idea what they’re saying?”

“Hmm…” He paused for a moment, listening. “I think they’re trying to figure out how best to sacrifice us to the Neverbird.”

“What?!” Her frantic hiss drew the attention of the natives; the group of them all turned to look at her curiously. Hook just ignored the attention they were receiving and chuckled.

“I’m only joking, love; they gave up on sacrifices centuries ago.” The statement wasn’t very reassuring at all. “To be honest, I can’t understand very much of it; I can only pick out a word here and there. They shouldn’t hurt us, though. I have somewhat of a history with the Indians.”

She thought of Tiger Lily’s welcome home present and then promptly decided _not_ to think about it. “When we get out of here I’m going to kill you.” She gave him a withering glare and made another attempt to wiggle out of her bonds, twisting her hands to try and slide them through the rope. It was a futile attempt, though; centuries stuck in Neverland had obviously given the natives plenty of time to perfect their prisoner-binding technique.

“You can try.”

“I can succeed.”

“I look forward to you _trying_.” The emphasis on the word made her scowl. “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced. What kind of instructor would I be if I didn’t check up on how my favorite student was doing?”

“I’m your only student.”

“Aye, and, therefore, my favorite.”

Good lord…

“Actually, I really am eager to see how you’ve come along since our last lesson.” Emma didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking; she could hear it in his voice.

“What, so you can tell me how sloppy my form has become?”

“We don’t have to spar for me to know that you have stunning _form_ , love.”

“Really?” She stared at him, incredulous. “We’re captives in an Indian camp with no idea of what they’re going to do to us and you’re flirting?”

He just shrugged, clearly more at ease with the entire situation than she was. “I’ve never been one to waste a good moment. You know, seize the day and all that.” That, she knew from experience, was a very true statement.

Suddenly, a large, booming voice drew her attention back to the natives in front of her and she watched as they parted to reveal a giant of a man. Easily reaching seven feet with an elaborate bear skin draped over his shoulders and all manner of beads and feathers braided into his hair, this man was obviously the chieftain.

“Hail, sea chief.”

Sea chief?

It fit, in an odd sort of way, seeing how Hook was the only person in Neverland with a ship. The Indians had canoes – she’d seen them fishing in Cannibal Cove before – but nothing that came close to the size of the Jolly Roger. The Indian chief evidently recognized Hook as head of the Neverland waters.

“Hail, Great Big Little Panther.”

Everyone was silent as the man stared at Hook. “You disappear, stay gone for many moons. But we know when the sea chief returns because he always brings trouble.” There was a playful look in the Indian’s eyes that began to quell the nervous feeling in Emma’s stomach. “Tiger Lily is not happy with your new woman.”

“She’s not my woman.”

What a hypocrite... She conveniently belonged to Hook when children were trying to kidnap her, but when another woman was involved, she was nobody. It was frustrating how much she had to convince herself not to be bothered by all of this; more than frustrating, to be honest. But Emma was stubborn and refused to care; she could care less about Hook and his sordid past. Really.

“No?” Great Big Little Panther looked surprised before glancing to the row of natives that stood behind him. “That is good news. Little Leaf, cut them down.”

A small boy moved from the edge of the circle to come behind the posts, cutting away the ropes that bound Hook before moving to her. Having her arms secured above her head had decreased her blood flow and caused a resulting numbness; finally free, she spent the next few moments trying to massage away the tingling feeling as her blood began to flow normally again.

The Indian chief made a motion and another man stepped forward to stand beside him. The man was attractive in a completely different way than Hook. Tall, dark hair with a feather that hung by his ear, powerfully built, nice smile. She also didn’t fail to notice that he was shirtless, his impressive chest and abs almost seemed to ripple in the firelight.

“My sister’s son, Wind Runner, has taken an interest in the girl with the golden hair.” Great Big Little Panther gestured first to the man beside him and then to Emma. “He wishes to claim her as his woman.”

Son of a bitch.

It seemed this wasn’t what Hook had been expecting either, meeting her startled expression with one of his own. “With all due respect, she’s not available to be claimed.” Well at least he was making an attempt to rescue her after apparently throwing her to the dogs.

The Indian just laughed. “That is not your decision, sea chief. But the girl will have a say.” Thank the gods for that. “Come, let’s go to the fire. We’ll talk over food.”

It was a hearty meal, some kind of stew that warmed and relaxed her instantly, and she gave Hook a small smile when she noticed him watching her from across the fire. She was sitting with the women of the tribe, them having snagged her hands and pulled her away from Hook on the way to the fire, while he sat opposite her with the men. The separation had made her nervous at first, but Hook had given her a reassuring look that clearly said not to worry.

The women were friendly, taking turns fawning over her skin, clothes, and hair, and Emma was reminded that, although they had seen Hook and his crew multiple times, they had never seen any women in Neverland other than those in their own tribe. When they’d finished eating, her bowl was collected by one of the small children and the women moved in to crowd around her.

“Wind Runner is great man.”

The woman that spoke – she’d heard someone call her Star Catcher – pulled out a pouch and emptied the contents to the ground, beads of every color falling out, along with an array of bird feathers. When hands begin to work through her hair, Emma realized the women’s intentions.

“Would make good husband.”

Apparently, the whole tribe knew of her supposed engagement.

As beads and feathers were braided into her hair, she watched some of the men pull drums of all different sizes from the nearby tents. They began to play an energetic, rapid beat that seemed perfect with the dark sky and the flickering fire as its only background. The Indians were yelling and dancing around the fire in jumping and twisting movements, and the pounding of the drums seemed to vibrate her very bones she watched them, entranced.

She had never experienced anything like this in her life. The only time she’d ever played music or danced had been within the palace walls where they were elegant, restrained activities. There was none of that restraint here. Everything seemed so wild and natural and untamed.

Her eyes drifted to Hook, still seated on the other side of the fire, and Emma frowned when she noticed Tiger Lily lounging beside him. Hook was smiling and talking to her, and the Indian princess’ hand reached out to touch Hook’s arm as they both laughed at whatever had been said. The slight irritation she felt – at herself for feeling anything at all and at Hook just because – was what pushed her to accept Wind Runner’s proffered hand when he requested she come dance.

It really wasn’t so bad; to be completely honest, it was quite fun and an excellent way to clear her mind. With a tight hold on her hand, Wind Runner pulled her around the fire, spinning and jumping and yelping until she was pleasantly winded and smiling widely. With the drums beating and the heat of the fire and her heart pounding, she felt so alive. It was some time before Wind Runner pulled her away from the fire to a shadowed spot between the tents; they were still within the light of the fire, but only just, and were a little more secluded.

Wind Runner came to a stop and turned to face her, a smile on his face. “If you were born of our tribe, we would have called you Spirited Dancer. But what is your name, otekah?”

“Whoa… what does otekah mean?” The word sounded strange coming from her mouth, and he laughed at her attempt.

“Oteka. Sun maiden.” Most likely because of her hair.

“My name’s Emma Swan.”

“Ah, then you are not otekah, you are magaskawee.” She stared at him, confused, and he explained. “Graceful swan maiden.”

He took a step closer, one of his hands touching lightly at her waist while the other ghosted over the feathers and beads scattered through her hair. It was crazy, really, how much he reminded her of Hook in that moment. They were completely different but, at the same time, so much alike. She had to say, though, that Wind Runner’s close proximity didn’t scatter her thoughts the same way Hook’s did, even if his impressively sculpted torso tried.

“You will make pretty wife.” He was smiling down at her with one of the most sincere smiles she’d ever seen. “And the sea chief explained how you are great hunter.” Unbidden, her eyes found Hook. He was still seated at the fire, albeit alone now, watching them, and she wished this little moment was occurring somewhere Hook couldn’t see them because his cocked eyebrow was making her very uncomfortable.

“I’m ok. Nothing really special.” She tried to brush off the compliment, never having been one to like the attention.

“You are special. Would be a great woman in tribe. You will stay?”

And she knew what he was asking. He had that slightly hopeful look in his eyes and his mouth was curled up in a small smile and his fingers were touching her cheek affectionately, but Emma’s eyes strayed to the pirate once more.

“I’m sorry, Wind Runner, but I can’t accept your proposal.” It was unlikely that he understood the word proposal, but he really didn’t have to; the message was clear. Her heart twisted a little at the way his face fell.

“You do not wish to stay in the plains with me?”

Ugh… he was so nice and she felt like such a jerk. “It’s not that…”

“Is it other man? The sea chief?” Oh boy. A fierce expression came over his face. “I will fight him for your hand if it make you happy.” It was almost flattering knowing he was willing to fight for her; she couldn’t say that about many other people in her life.

“No, there’s no need to… um, fight… or anything. It’s nothing to do with the sea chief.” She once again wondered if she was also trying to convince herself. “I’m just not ready to settle down yet.”

Wind Runner looked at her for a moment with a mixture of confusion and disappointment, before he leaned forward. Their foreheads touched, although there was none of the pressure she usually felt when she was in similar situations with Hook, and his hands held hers, bringing them to his chest. The gesture was simple, almost comforting.

“Then I will wait for you, kiwidinok. I will wait until you are ready.”

It sounded romantic even though she had no idea what kiwidinok meant.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Emma sat and talked with some girls her age – or who would’ve been her age if they were who-knows-how-many years old – and even took a pull from a peace pipe that was being passed around the tribe. It was the first time she’d ever smoked anything in her life, and based on the awful coughing fit and the unbearable tightness in her lungs that followed, it would also be her last.

The moon was high in the sky when Hook finally came to her and suggested they head back to the ship. After bidding farewell to Great Big Little Panther, thanking him for the evening and his hospitality, they made their way through the grassland towards the Jolly Roger. Hook walked close to her, his arm lightly brushing hers a couple times. It was unnecessary, really seeing how there was a whole freaking grassland for him to walk through, but she didn’t move away.

“I’m crushed you didn’t save me a dance, love.”

Hook had been talking to Tiger Lily at the time; knowing she’d caught his attention gave her a smug, satisfied feeling. “You know, I have a really hard time picturing you dancing around a fire.” Which was a very true statement. She had a hard time imagining him dancing at all.

“Aye, I’ll admit, it’s not my forte. Although I have been told I’m quite good at a waltz.”

Surprised, she turned to him. “A waltz? What use is a waltz to a pirate?”

“I have to have some way to sweep a princess off her feet.” And even though it was a sensitive subject, she was feeling so good that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, you’ll just have to prove that sometime.”

Hook flirted with her on an almost daily basis, had ever since they’d first met. Most of the time, she turned him down – even though the slight chuckles and smiles he always seemed to pull from her probably contradicted anything she could say – but occasionally she couldn’t help but flirt back. It was dangerous, though. She had to keep a level head or it would be far too easy to…

“Why Miss Swan, are you agreeing to have a dance with me?” He glanced at her, his tone innocent but obviously teasing her.

“I am agreeing to – one day – judge whether or not you can waltz as good as you say.”

“Because you’re an expert at waltzing.”

“I’ll have you know, I was taught all manner of dance from the best instructors in seven kingdoms.” Emma put as much snootiness into the phrase as she could. “ _I_ am an excellent dancer.”

“Well then I look forward to being judged by you.” When he flashed a self-assured smirk, she felt her breath hitch and attempted to cover it up by rolling her eyes and looking away from him.

They walked in silence for a moment before her mouth blatantly disobeyed her brain. “So you and Tiger Lily.” The fact that she brought it up at all contradicted any effort on her part to sound casual and uncaring and she felt like kicking herself.

“So you and Wind Runner.”

So they were going to play that game.

Both stubbornly quiet, the silence seemed to stretch out thick in the air between them before Hook blew out a loud breath and spoke. “We met when I was here during the three hundred year stretch, came across her in a field much like we did today. I’d just lost Milah… I was angry and hurting and she was attractive and willing.” Emma hadn’t meant to watch him as he explained but she did; he wouldn’t meet her eyes, though. “It was never supposed to be anything more than just sex.”

“I may be reading too much into it, but it sure seems like she took it as more than just casual sex.”

“It was just sex for me.”

It sounded harsh and uncaring, but she could hear the unspoken words between the lines – _she doesn’t mean anything to me_ – and felt reassured. She didn’t know how to classify what was going on between Hook and herself, tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t deny the connection she felt with him. They’d spent too much time together, gone through too much, for there _not_ to be a connection.

“So you and Wind Runner.” Emma couldn’t help but smile at his teasing tone.

“Not much to say. He wanted me to stay with him to be his woman, called me some pretty names, but I told him I couldn’t. Oh and you’re welcome, by the way.” Hook looked at her, confused. “At first he thought you were the reason I was turning him down and was prepared to fight you for me, but I convinced him otherwise.”

“You’re sure I wasn’t the reason?” He smirked suggestively, to which she raised her eyebrow haughtily, denying it without even speaking. “Many thanks for saving my skin, milady. What would I do with you?”

“Probably get yourself into all kinds of trouble.” And he chuckled. “Do you know what kiwidinok means?”

She hadn’t been meaning to ask, mostly because she wasn’t sure if Hook would even know, but his startled expression told her he did. “He called you that?” The surprise was already gone, his face schooled into a more casual appearance. “It’s a very strong phrase among the Indians; means woman of the wind.”

She’d been right – it was romantic.

“I wouldn’t call you that, though.”

Emma stopped walking and turned to him, slightly offended. “And why not?”

“Calm down, love. To the natives, a woman of the wind is one that wants to be free, doesn’t want to be tied down.” Hook took a couple slow steps to stand directly in front of her, raising his hook to touch a cluster of beads in her hair, and she shivered involuntarily when the cool metal brushed against her ear. “There are no secrets between us anymore, and I know enough about you now to know that you exemplify that statement.”

Trying to ignore the mild fluttering in her stomach at his words and actions, Emma raised an eyebrow. “So then why wouldn’t you call me that?”

“Because I would call you something else.”

The words were murmured as he leaned forward. Emma waited for the kiss, but when he hesitated, leaving a few inches between their lips, she realized he wanted her to be the one to kiss him. Every time they’d kissed, it had been by his action; the only exception being the night of their conversation, the one she pretended not to remember. But this was her choice now – kiss him or back away – and there was nothing she could use to rationalize it. No alcohol, no raging hormones, no passion from just having shared their pasts. This would simply be Emma wanting to kiss Hook.

He waited there, not pushing her to make the move nor holding her in place. Her heart hammered in her chest, quick started simply by Hook’s presence; he elicited reactions from her that Wind Runner could never hope to replicate. But even so…

“What would you call me?”

She was a coward. Afraid of her emotions, still too scared to let go with him, she’d taken the out he’d offered, given in to her flight instinct. With a somewhat disappointed quirk of his lips, he straightened, giving her the space she both wanted and didn’t want.

“I’ll tell you… someday.”

And then his back was to her and he was walking down the path again to the Jolly Roger.


	9. A Recurring Dream and A Commitment

_“Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste – as it keeps my heart and soul in its place – and I will love with urgency but not with haste.”_

* * *

Emma’s heart was pounding when she awoke with a start.

It was a comfortable night, the kind where the windows could be kept open and it not be too hot or too cold, but when she ran a hand over her face, she could feel the clammy sweat that had beaded across her forehead. Throwing back the covers, she walked over to sit on the window seat; there was no way she’d be able to go back to sleep now. The breeze drifting in was cool and slowly helped to calm her still-anxious nerves. As far back as she could remember, Emma had been having the dream.

It would always start out with a blur of colors, everything swirling together. There were voices, and although all of their words were muffled and indistinguishable, they sounded scared. And there was another voice, an angry one, filled with malice, and when it laughed cruelly she always had the urge to cry. Then a bright light would slice through the blur of colors and she could feel nothing but pain. Everything hurt so badly and she could hear someone crying and yelling and then… she’d wake up.

The same dream, every time.

It was still early, the sky just starting to lighten, so Emma was the first one to the breakfast table, but the cooks had been awake for hours already and had food ready to serve when she arrived. Eggs, ham, sausage, bacon, oatmeal, pancakes drizzled with honey, an array of fruits, juices of every kind; meals in the royal palace were never anything short of extravagant. Still feeling uneasy, Emma settled on a piece of toast with jelly and was still nibbling at it absentmindedly when her father walked in.

“Good morning, darling. Sleep well?”

“Yes and no. I had the dream.”

Her father paused and glanced at her before resuming filling his plate. “That silly one again? You know, I had a recurring dream when I was a child, too; almost every night. In the dream, I would always be running in the woods, playing a game…”

Emma tuned her father out. Her parents had always blown off the dream, claiming it to just be her childlike imagination and that it would fade in time.

“… and then it turned out to just be a lump of spoiled cheese. So, you see, there’s really nothing to these dreams. They’re just nonsense.”

She wanted to believe that, wanted it more than anything.

“I suppose you’re right, Dad.”

But it was weird… the dream just felt so real.

Almost like it was a memory.

* * *

Two hundred seventy-one days

Morning

Hook had decided earlier that morning that today was the day they would attempt to steal a treasure from the mermaids. It was a shell, one that he’d found and hidden at Skull Rock during his earlier time in Neverland only to find out now that the mermaids had stolen it. The plan went beautifully, and the crew had cheered victoriously, holding the shell aloft, as Hook navigated them back to the open waters of the Neversea.

It really was a gorgeous shell; iridescent shades of opal, lilac, and pink swirled through the object that was nearly as big as her head. Emma had just placed the shell in the cabin when something collided with the ship, the subsequent rocking forcing her to grab the shelves to remain steady while several items in the room fell to the floor.

Hurriedly, she made her way back on deck, but as soon as she stepped out of the cabin, all she could hear was singing. Numerous heads poked out of the sea around the ship; apparently, the mermaids had discovered their stolen shell and had come after the pirates. Their song was loud, a plaintive and mournful sound that rang in her ears and blocked out any other noise, and most of the men stumbled around with hands covering their ears in a desperate attempt to block the singing.

Feeling a sudden shot of panic, Emma looked around desperately for Hook and found him at the bow, swinging his cutlass at a mermaid that clung to the side of the ship. She ran forward, reaching him just as he bested the creature, knocking it back into the sea. When he turned to her, she vaguely noticed a smear of blood across his cheek – it didn’t seem to be his – and the distracted look in his eyes.

_“Their siren song is like a drug to a man’s thoughts… I’ve seen many a man succumb to a mermaid’s cry; jump into the ocean only to be pulled to his death.”_

Understanding flooded through her as Hook shook his head, trying to ward off the influence of the singing, but there was a glassy look to his eyes as his body turned involuntarily towards the side of the ship, towards the mermaids that wished to drag him to his death. Jumping to action, Emma grabbed the back of his shirt just as he reached for the railing and pulled, jerking him hard and throwing him off balance. They stumbled for a moment before falling, Hook landing heavily on top of her.

Under normal circumstances, the suggestive pirate would have made any number of comments on their compromising situation. The fact that he remained silent and seemingly unaware of the fact he was laying on her – his head was already starting to turn wistfully towards the singing – worried her. She felt him move, begin to pull away from her as if to stand up, and reacted; without thinking, she kissed him.

Later, she would maintain that it was just an attempt to divert him and keep him from jumping to his death, but he would insist that there were plenty of other ways she could have distracted him. Either way, it worked. Noticing his eyes clear and refocus, Emma ended the kiss and, ignoring the roguish look he gave her, pushed him away and stood up. Ripping a strip from her shirttail, she held it out to Hook.

“Put this in your ears!” She knew she was yelling but couldn’t hear anything except the singing; Hook seemed to get the idea, though, grabbing for the material and stuffing it in his ears. His mouth moved – she couldn’t make out the words – and then he was motioning behind her.

Hands grabbed at the railings all around the ship and began to reveal the mermaids as they pulled themselves up and over, flopping to the deck and crawling towards the men. Several of them had acted similarly to Emma; she could see colored fabric jammed in most of their ears. Based on their still-pained expressions, it didn’t block the noise completely, but it must have been just enough to clear their minds and allow them to fight back because most of them faced the creatures with swords drawn and at the ready.

Hook moved past her to join his men on deck and Emma watched for a moment as he fought against the mermaids. The way he moved, swinging and lunging… it was almost beautiful, in a morbid sort of way. Distracted by the sight, she didn’t even notice the mermaid behind her until she was being tackled. With a muffled grunt, Emma fell to the deck.

Mermaids were dangerous creatures; Hook had told her that once. At that time, the half-women had been lazing about on the rocks of Mermaids’ Lagoon, splashing their fins playfully and singing out to the men aboard the Jolly Roger. Although she could still remember the tense clenching of Hook’s jaw, she’d had a hard time believing them to be brutal. They just seemed so… innocent. Flirty, but innocent.

With a clawed hand grasping for her throat and a mouth full of pointed teeth in her face, Emma was very quickly reconsidering her earlier assessment.

One of the mermaid’s hands clasped around her right wrist, forcing her sword away, while the other pricked at her throat, the pointed claws itching to tear through her flesh. Abandoning the natural instinct that had told her to push the mermaid away, she twisted beneath the creature. Reaching her free hand down between them, she felt the wet fabric of her pants and the sharp edges of scales before her fingers slipped into her boot, grasping the knife she kept hidden there.

She’d be damned if she were to die by a fish.

The mermaid screamed – a horrible, wailing sound – as Emma plunged the small blade into the creature’s side again and again. And then it was thrashing, almost crushing her as it flopped around. The mermaid released Emma’s hand, twisting away from her, and claws scrambled and tore at the deck as it made for the edge of the ship and the safety of the water.

Lurching to her feet, Emma made to follow the creature when its fin slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, and she watched in horror as her short sword skidded across the deck. The deck was slick with water from the mermaids’ bodies, and the constant rocking of the Jolly Roger caused the blade to slip closer and closer to the edge of the ship. She staggered towards the sword, almost crashing into Mullins as he ran towards another of the mermaids, and pitched forward, falling to the deck once again to grab it just before it fell over the side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Emma was surprised to actually hear it. The water surrounding the ship was smooth and flat; all of the mermaids that had remained out there seemed to have ceased their singing and retreated, leaving only those aboard the ship. Without their song vibrating through her head, she could now hear the men’s enthused yells as they began to fight with renewed vigor.

Emma scanned the crew, searching for a glimpse of the telltale black attire, and breathing another sigh when she spotted him in the midst of the mêlée, but then she was being tugged backwards, a vice-like grip around her ankle. Instincts kicking in, she kicked violently with her other foot and heard the satisfying crunch of bone as her boot made contact. The hold on her ankle loosened after the blow and she rolled to better face her assailant and kicked once more, making another direct hit.

Blood streamed from the mermaid’s nose and mouth as it hissed, a ferocious and murderous expression on its face. It grabbed her other ankle, pulling her forward, and began to crawl over her legs, but Emma swung the sword and a red line appeared across the mermaid’s chest before warm blood spilled over her legs.

It screamed much like the other one, an echoing noise that sounded like it was being heard underwater, and grabbed for Emma, claws ripping through her shirt. With the adrenaline fueling her movements, Emma pulled back before shoving her sword deep into the creature’s body. More blood poured onto her, soaking into her – most likely – ruined clothing as she yanked the sword back out, and the mermaid collapsed with one last gurgling hiss.

“Bloody hell.”

There was no one around to even hear her, but she felt like it needed to be said anyway because killing a mermaid was not at all something she’d been expecting to do today and the whole situation still seemed a little surreal. Emma continued to lay there under the dead weight for a moment as her heart slowed. The fight was over; the only sounds that remained were those of the men talking with each other and the occasional splash of what she assumed to be dead mermaids being thrown back into the water.

“Emma?” It was faint at first, but then the call came louder. “Emma?”

She lifted her hand feebly to motion that she was ok; the energy that had been fueling her body during the attack had seeped away now and left her feeling tired and weak. Hook shoved at the mermaid, pushing it over the side of the ship, before he leaned over her.

“You alright, love?”

“I’m fine.” He still had that smear of blood on his face; she reached up to touch a finger to it. “You?”

It was a tight-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless. “The blood’s not mine. It’ll take more than a fish to kill me.”

“Figures.” Gradually, she drew back her hand, the red liquid staining the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, Hook began to remove his shirt and Emma’s eyes opened wide, some of that energy coming back quite suddenly. “What are you doing?”

He motioned to her clothing and a single glance revealed the reason for his actions. “I don’t particularly think you care to have the whole crew see your… assets.”

The mermaid’s claws had shredded through most of her shirt, and while she was still mostly covered for the moment, that would not be the case if she were to stand up. She accepted his proffered shirt and slid it on backwards; there was no way for her to put in on properly without exposing some part of herself. Sitting up slowly, clothing pressed firmly to her chest, she looked past Hook – she did not ogle his bare torso – to survey the state of the ship.

It was a mess, but reparable.

And, miraculously, everyone seemed to be alive.

Her attention drifted back to Hook when she felt his hand against her back. It seemed the mermaid had also torn through the back of her shirt since she could feel his skin against hers. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

Back in his cabin, Hook had given her a cursory once over – he’d insisted he was only checking for injuries, but she wasn’t quite sure that was the whole truth – and offered to help her dress before she’d kicked him out with a chuckle. She ripped off the remains of her top and dropped her blood-soaked pants; they would both need to be tossed. Digging out an extra pair of trousers, she redressed, and took a moment to notice how soft and warm Hook’s shirt was and how it smelled exactly like him.

Two hundred seventy-one days

Night

Emma leaned back against the mast, smiling as she watched the crew of the Jolly Roger and sipped at her tankard of rum. Some of the crew played on various instruments, as best as they could considering they were well on their way to being flat-out drunk, while others sang sea chanties – songs of escapades, heroics, women, and rum.

Typical pirates.

The singing trailed off in a drunken slur as the current song came to an end and Emma couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they all sounded. Her laugh, however, caught the men’s attention, Starkey loudly exclaiming that they should sing to her honor as she was the only woman on board and had managed to slay one of the mermaids.

“Oh no, please don’t!” But they’d already started into some god-awful rendition that made her cringe in embarrassment for those singing it as much as herself. They were going on about the speed of her sword when Hook sauntered up to her. “This is humiliating.”

“Well, you can’t really blame them… you were quite impressive.” She felt a slight tug on her sleeve. “I don’t know why I ever allowed you to wear anything other than my clothing, love.” Emma still sported the shirt he’d given her earlier that day. “They look far better on you than on me.”

She highly doubted that; Hook looked pretty damn good in anything… or nothing. Her mind readily supplied an image of him shirtless that she tried not to focus on too much.

“Don’t get used to it. As soon as my other clothes are dry, you’ll have your shirt back.”

“You should keep it.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Don’t even try it. You only want me to keep wearing it because your plunging necklines reveal quite a bit more than my normal attire.”

“I hate to say it, love, but your shirts aren’t exactly modest. That green top – the loose one; when the wind blows just right you can almost see…”

“Hook!” Emma cut him off and he laughed at her exclamation. “Seeing how you’re a gentleman, I know you’d never do anything as undignified as try to look down my blouse.”

“Yes, trying to sneak peeks could be considered rather deceptive. Bad form; not gentlemanly at all. That’s why I forego the deception and simply stare outright.” He gave that deadly wink and smirk combination that got her every time.

Turning away from him to look at the crew, she shook her head in mock exasperation and laughed for a moment. “Hook, you’re hopeless. All the swagger and insinuations… you’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days.” Her laugh trailed off into a moment of silence before he responded.

“I’m already in trouble.”

The exchange shifted rapidly, and her head turned sharply at the sudden change in his voice, all traces of the playful banter gone. Regroup, Emma. She needed to lighten the conversation again before it turned into… well, something.

“Well, I highly doubt any fathers of the countless women you’ve slept with have found their way to Neverland, so I think it’s safe to say we’re nowhere near trouble right now.”

Ignoring her facetious tone of voice, Hook stepped towards her and the hair on the back of her neck stood up as the distance between the decreased. He stopped in front of her and gently traced his fingers up her arm before they settled at her waist.

“That’s not what I meant.”

And she knew that.

What was it about him that made her want to ignore everything she’d ever known, everything she’d taught herself? What was it about him that drew her in? His looks had caught her attention and his charm had gained her companionship, but he – every part of him – had secured her affection. He pulled at her very being the way a mermaid’s song pulled at a man. The thought of him simultaneously thrilled her and terrified her.

“Trouble is what scares me.”

It was a whisper and after uttering the words it was hard to meet his gaze and she found herself looking at anything else… his hair, his lips, his chest. Pressing his hook under her jaw, the cool metal forced her eyes back to his. They were dark, so very dark. She recognized that look; had seen it in his eyes and had felt it in hers too many times to count.

When his focus dipped down to her lips, she moved; putting a hand against his chest to push him back, to stop what she knew he wanted – what she wanted. Only this time, instead of pushing him away, her hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

Hook paused in surprise at the change, eyes flickering down to see the tension in her hand as it grasped at him. Emma also stared at her hand in disbelief. It was apparently a traitorous appendage, grabbing for him instead of pushing him away as she’d intended it to do. The air began to almost crackle around them, the atmosphere having gone from light to gray to dark in mere seconds.

“Emma.”

It was a whisper. A whisper of a whisper, so soft she could barely hear it. But she did hear it and it was multi-layered and full of so many different tones. Admiration, longing, regret, desire… she wasn’t sure how that many different emotions could fit into such a softly spoken word.

Hook dipped his head, then, brushing his lips lightly across hers. It couldn’t even be counted as a kiss as he never made full contact, but it was still so sensual her breath hitched. She was used to him being forward, could handle him better when he was surrounded by the cloud of smirks and innuendos, but she’d never managed to get a hold on this other side of him; this still and quiet side was a hell of a lot harder to ward off.

His hooked hand left her chin, moving to her waist, only to be replaced by his hand. It tangled in her hair while his thumb traced across her cheekbone, stroking it lightly as he held her gaze and began to walk them backward until her back pushed up against the mast.

They were hidden from the crew’s sight now, the moonlight illuminating the deck, shining on either side of the mast and casting them into shadow. Emma was most likely as grateful as Hook to be away from the crew’s prying eyes because, despite him being the captain, she knew the men pestered him constantly about her, giving him grief over his determined – and so far futile – conquest for her.

He leaned into her, nudging her legs apart and pushing his knee between them. The night was cool but he was so hot she could feel it radiating from him even with the layers of clothing between them, could feel the heat licking at the hands she now had fisted in the fabric at his hips.

“Emma.”

He murmured her name again and this time she could feel the movement against her lips. Her heart was racing, breaths coming shallow and quick now. She wanted him to kiss her so bad and at the same time hated that he could make her feel this way. The feather-light caresses were driving her crazy – damn it, she needed more – but he refused to do anything more than lightly brush his lips against hers.

His hand lowered, gliding down her neck to press his thumb to her rapid pulse, as he shifted his body against hers, the friction causing her to suck in a harsh breath, before pressing into her more firmly. She could feel him against her thigh, could feel how bad he wanted her. With a breathy exhale, her head fell back against the mast.

Hook moved then, the sudden access to her neck too great a temptation to pass up. He pressed his lips just below her left ear, kissing her gently, before moving down her neck, nipping and licking and sucking at her skin. The stars above her shone brightly but she didn’t really see them, too overwhelmed with the feeling of his mouth on her. She distantly heard the sound of him digging his hook into the wooden mast, giving him leverage to pull himself against her as he shifted upwards, dragging his body against hers, until he could look her in the eye.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Pretend that you don’t want me?”

He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes locked on her lips.

“That you don’t want this?”

Everything seemed so surreal, her mind hazy. “What makes you think I’m pretending?” It came out in a breathless voice Emma was hardly able to recognize as her own and she saw him smirk as his eyes rose to hers.

“You’re in over your head, love.”

It was like something within her snapped. One moment she was staring at him, somewhat shocked – but not really – at his ability to read her so well, and the next she was moving forward to push her lips against his. For a moment he paused, but then he was kissing her fervently, eagerly, roughly.

There was no alcohol to blame this time, nothing to use as an excuse for her actions. This was her – sober and willing and unapologetically her – wanting him. And, _gods_ , did she want him. It had been so long since she’d slept with someone, although not for a lack of options. She could’ve had her pick of men over the years but something always held her back, and now she realized it for what it was.

She had wanted Hook.

She _wanted_ Hook.

Pulling at his hips, he fulfilled her silent request, pressing into her until her spine scraped against the mast painfully, but she didn’t care. She was clutching at him and he moved against her, kissed her, touched her, until her legs, her entire body, trembled with need. Only then did he pull away, a fierce look in his eyes.

Without a word, he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards his quarters. Most of the crew was still singing and drinking on the deck, but Emma could hear the occasional whistle as they made their way past them; even the drunken pirates could see the determination in their captain’s gait. He ripped open the door, dragged her through, and slammed it behind them before pushing her up against it, mouth finding hers once more.

The still and quiet Hook from earlier was gone, replaced by this one who seared her, scorched her with his very touch. His hand was twisted in her hair again while his hook pressed at the back of her thigh, the point pricking and forcing her to lift her leg and wrap it around his waist. The new position gave him better access to grind against her and she felt she would pass out from the dizzying rush of it all even as her hips tilted upwards, wanting more.

Emma grabbed his shoulders before wrapping her other leg around his waist, his hand automatically moving beneath her to help support her weight. She could feel all of him now, pressed up against her in the most tantalizing way; her hands grasped at his hair as his hips rocked against hers and his mouth sucked at the hollow of her throat. Feverishly, she worked at the fastenings of his vest.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He chuckled, pausing in his ministrations. “ _You’re_ wearing too many clothes.”

Which was also a true statement.

She was still working at his attire when he suddenly pulled her away from the door and walked over to set her down on his desk. As the last of the clasps came free, she desperately pushed the clothing away, forcing him to release her to remove the shirt and vest, and was strongly reminded of the last time they were this exact same situation. And maybe it was because she didn’t stop to admire him as he expected, or maybe it was the look on her face, or maybe it was just because he always seemed to know every damn thing that went through her head, but he paused, leaning back and giving her a knowing look.

“You remember, don’t you?” She knew what he meant. “You didn’t forget that night at all.” The smirk was back, that god-forsaken thing that was sure to be the death of her. “I figured as much.”

She couldn’t find the strength to speak as he put his hand to her chest, pressing until she had no choice but to lay flat on the desk, feeling very exposed despite being fully clothed.

“You remember everything.”

His hand reached forward, fingers lightly touching her lips before trailing down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, and over her stomach to rest at the hem of her shirt.

“How it felt when I touched you…”

Both hand and hook were cold against her flushed skin as he slowly moved up her stomach, pushing the fabric higher.

“How it felt when I kissed you…”

He paused at her ribcage, leaning forward to press a hot kiss to the scar that still remained from her stabbing, the ordeal that started it all.

“How it felt when you wanted me…”

And then the material slipped over her head and she lay before him. Not since Baelfire had she allowed a man to simply look at her; it made her uncomfortable, too intimate of a gesture. But she didn’t stop Hook. He stared at her for a moment, almost as if he were memorizing her, and the look on his face was almost as stimulating as his touch.

“Gods, Emma… do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Palming one of her breasts, his mouth found the hardened peak of the other, and she arched her back at the spike of pleasure that shot straight to her core. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him against her and she felt his hips buck to hers instinctively with a deep groan. The feeling of his mouth on her… it scattered her senses, pushing her higher and higher until every part of her was literally begging for release.

With a sharp tug on his hair, she pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him hard. “Bed.” It took too much mental capacity to form complete sentences. “Now.”

He lifted her once again, carrying her to the bed where he released her to fall back into the softness, his hand instantly reaching for the laces of her trousers. It didn’t take him long – of course Hook would be a damn expert at unlacing women’s pants even with only one hand – and then he was tugging on them, pulling them slowly over her hips along with her undergarments, to fall to the floor with her boots.

Still standing at the edge of the bed, he looked down at her, but she didn’t give him long to stare. Sitting up, her hands gripped his hips as she pressed her mouth to the bulge in his pants, nipping at him lightly through the leather. She could hear his sharp hiss at the contact and felt him roughly grasp a handful of her hair.

“Don’t tease me, love.”

Hook’s voice was noticeably strained and the fingers in her hair twitched. Releasing his hips, her fingers began to work at the laces of his pants, deftly undoing them while she pressed hot kisses to the skin at his waist. And then she was done and pushing the material to the ground, brazenly allowing her eyes to roam his form as he kicked off the boots and pants around his legs. Gods, he was exquisite. All lean and muscled and handsome and absolutely perfect and – she rarely cursed, but – _fuck_.

Then she was laying back into the bed and the feeling of his body on hers, bare skin against bare skin, sent white-hot blades of pleasure through her. She could feel the heat building, that warm liquid fire that started in her stomach and spread through her entire body. His lips were on hers, his erection hard against her thigh, while her nails dug into his back, and she distantly thought that if this was what it felt like to be consumed by fire, she would gladly burn.

Trailing down her side, his hand slipped between them to press against her. His thumb brushed against the bundle of nerves where she ached for him, her hips jerking of their own accord at the sensation, and then he was sliding one, two fingers in. He stroked, fingers curling within her to hit that spot that caused her brain to go white and fuzzy at the edges, spots to flash in the darkness of her tightly shut eyes, and a moan to fall unbidden from her lips.

It felt so good – so _very_ good – and a spring began to tighten in Emma’s belly, coiling tighter and tighter with each of his movements. The feeling of him rutting against her thigh, thrusting his hips in time with his fingers, was almost more than she could stand, and her hands fisted in his hair as she kissed him, giving into the sensations he was so skillfully pulling from her.

“Please…”

Emma wasn’t even aware that she’d spoken, had whispered the plea against his lips. His fingers stilled before pulling out and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Elbows digging into the mattress on either side of her body, he pulled back to look at her and she could feel the slight trembling in his body. His hand grasped one of hers, twining their fingers together, pressing it into the bed near her head, and he shifted, moving his body into the position that would give them both the release they wanted – needed.

Things were no longer tentative between them, no longer maybe; now it was only yes and please and…

He paused, the tip of him just nudging at where she wanted him most, brushing over her slick folds in an electrifying caress. Gods, he was right there and she literally ached for him and she didn’t know why the hell he wasn’t doing anything…

“Say it, Emma.” Her eyes shot to his. “I want to hear you say it.”

The haze of lust somewhat lessened as she gazed at him and brought her hand to his cheek. His eyes were that startling blue she’d always been captivated by but there was something else behind them; a yearning. He _needed_ her to say this.

“I want you.”

His expression was intense and he all but growled the demand. “Again.”

“I want you.”

She heard him groan with pleasure – it sounded so erotic – as he buried his face in the hair against her neck. The head of his erection was nestled firmly against her and then he was pressing into her, filling the emptiness with himself, and Emma felt the world go blank.

And there was nothing but his ragged breath across her skin…

Nothing but their firmly clasped hands…

Nothing but her breathless gasp and tightly shut eyes…

Nothing but desire as he filled her completely…

Nothing but the free-fall as she finally let herself go…

When at last Hook was buried deep within her, he let out a shuddering breath and stilled. The moment dragged out, punctuated only by the sound of strained breathing and their simultaneously pounding hearts. It felt like forever before he finally moved, rotating his hips against hers, and her free hand alternated between twisting in the sheets and grabbing at his back, his shoulder, his neck. He felt incredible inside her, a fullness that made her feel so complete, but she needed more.

“Please…” At her words, he lifted his head to press his forehead to hers. “Hook, please… I need…”

And she needed a lot of things, but the most important thing right then was that she needed him to move.

“Is that the sound of you begging me, love?”

It was so typical, so predictable, so _Hook_ , but she knew he was fighting for control just as much as she was, could hear it in the hoarse tone of his voice, the tension running through his body.

“Move.” Despite the word being forced through gritted teeth, her voice sounded desperate and wanton and completely different from anything spoken during the times she’d spent with other men. And that was because Hook wasn’t those other men; he was so much more.

Then he pulled out, almost withdrawing from her completely, before pressing back into her.

“Yes…” And the word was a hiss against his mouth.

“Gods, Emma, you feel so good… tell me what you want.”

Emma wanted so much – to laugh at the way life had a way of working out sometimes; to cry at the absolutely terrifying feeling of giving everything to another person; to hide from those crushingly strong emotions that were safer to not think about. But right then…

“Just you, Killian.”

The sound of his real name, not his moniker, falling from her mouth seemed to tear through the last shred of his self-control, and she felt a rumble go through his chest as he snapped his hips to hers.

And then he was moving and it was _perfect_.

Emma moved with him, met him thrust for thrust, her pants coming in time with the rhythm he set. Everything seemed hyper-sensitive, every nerve standing on end. She could feel the pinch of one of his rings as it pressed between their tightly clasped fingers, could smell the salt on his sweat-slick skin, could hear the rubbing of her body against the sheets, could taste the sea as she pressed her lips to his shoulder. She was happily drowning in the feel of him.

It was all so much – too much.

And her body blazed, toes curled, back arched as the pressure mounted with every touch, with every deep thrust. Then he shifted, angling himself against her, and she felt when he burned over just the right spot inside her; couldn’t stop the keening, pleading sound she emitted. She could hear his hoarse grunts, could feel his jagged breaths, could hear him moan her name, could feel that energy burn through her body.

And she needed this…

Needed him…

Needed to breathe…

Needed release…

Needed…

The world snapped, sent her reeling and tumbling and falling, as her legs tightened against his hips, her walls clenched around him, and her body rippled with pleasure that was so intense it was almost pain.

A strangled sound forced itself from her mouth and she bit into the hard muscle of his shoulder as his continued movements drew out her orgasm, her body shuddering beneath his. She clung to him desperately, certain she would fall into the fire if she let go, and she moaned his name – _Killian_ – again. And the rhythm was shattered as he thrust quickly, deeply, into her one, two, three times before he came with a violent curse, pouring into her.

Slowly the world drifted back into focus.

He’d rolled to the side and pulled her to his chest. Her body was still trembling, sparking with the aftershocks, and she’d never felt so relaxed, so at ease, so utterly and completely content in all her life.

“That was…” A jumble of words came to mind, each of which could never come close to adequately describing what they’d just shared. “Amazing.”

His hand swept across her cheek, brushing away the damp hair that clung to her face. “You expected me to be bad?”

Stretching forward, she caught him in a long, soft kiss. “Mmm… no, I expected you to be great. So just shut up and take the compliment.”

She gave him a relaxed smile, received an equally languid smirk in return, and burrowed her face into his chest, concentrating on the steady stroke of his hand through her hair, and let sleep come up to claim her.

Giving in had never felt so good.

Or so right.


	10. A Day Off and A Curse

_“How long is forever? Sometimes, just one second.”_

* * *

It was a cold, windy day; not the kind that typically encouraged sitting on the beach, yet here she sat.

An occasional snowflake drifted through the air as she gazed out over the ocean. The skies were dark and heavy with the low-slung clouds, and the winds churned the sea, flashes of white catching her eye as the waves broke. The smell of winter was in the air, a crisp scent that hinted of ice and frost and snow.

It was late afternoon, right about the time she’d normally be in the bar straightening and cleaning to prepare for the evening rush, but she wouldn’t be found there today. No, today she wouldn’t have to deal with alcohol and men and catcalls because today was her day off. She hadn’t asked for it nor had she expected it. In the fourteen years she’d been working at The Salty Dog Inn, she could count the days she’d had off on two hands; not that she minded, of course, seeing how she really did love her job. But she couldn’t help but admit that having a day off was nice.

Despite the frigid temperatures, Emma kicked off her boots and wiggled her toes down into the sand, burying them deep beneath the grains. She had done the same thing as a child the few times her parents had taken her to the beach. At the thought of her parents, her brow involuntarily furrowed. It was a sensitive subject – always had been – that she tried not to think about, but memories of her time in the palace would sneak up on her at the oddest times, forcefully snagging her attention and focus and often leaving her winded with the hollow ache that remained in their wake.

Emma liked to think of herself as having been a well-rounded, mature-for-her-age child. However, while she _had_ been well-rounded and slightly more mature than others her age, she was still only a child. She’d looked on every situation through an adolescent’s eyes, often seeing everything as dramatic, the end of the world. There was never time to wait and see how things panned out… no, there was only a problem and an action to be taken to circumvent it. It was the natural workings of a child’s mind.

Now as an adult, she often wondered if she’d made the right choice in running away.

Her parents had been nothing but loving; fiercely overprotective and somewhat smothering, but loving nonetheless. And she’d never doubted their love for her, their absolute need to protect her. Their only daughter, she was the apple of their eye, the sole source of their pride and joy, the living embodiment of their love and dedication to each other, the proof of their signature testament – _I will always find you_.

And she’d broken their hearts.

Although when Emma had stood on that merchant ship and finally took one last, long look at her home, her heart had broken just the same.

Running away was such an important thing for a twelve year old to decide. If only she’d known then what she knew now; how there’s always another choice, always another option. Choosing to run away had been such an ultimate decision, one that completely cut ties. But…

What if she went back? The thought of seeing her parents after all these years… When she tried to imagine it, she couldn’t see the look on their faces and it scared her. Would it be one of joy, happy to finally be reunited with their daughter? Or would it be one of disappointment, hurt and angry at her choice all those years ago?

How could she ever bring herself to face her parents and her kingdom again after fleeing from them?

“You’re going to catch your death out here.”

Emma whipped around, the wind blowing strands of hair into her face, but she was still able to make out the familiar form of the huntsman as he approached her.

“Ah, but at least it would be in the comfort of a day off.”

“Is that right?” He dropped to sit beside her. “I can’t believe Geppetto let you off. Let me guess – causing too much trouble? Roughing up the patrons?”

He laughed when she elbowed him. “Good behavior, actually.”

“I’m sure. Seriously, though, Emma – it’s freezing. You’re likely to get sick if you stay out here too long.” She would normally say something, but her mind still felt weighed down by her thoughts of home. There was a faint hint of concern in Graham’s voice at her silence. “Are you alright?”

 _Were_ things alright?

“Yeah, just thinking. Sometimes it’s nice to get away; to have some time to yourself and just… be.”

Her words hung in the air for a second before he spoke. “On that note, I think I’ll take my leave. I’d hate to intrude on your alone time.” Graham moved to stand up, but it was all a show, an attempt to lighten her mood, as his voice was pure jest.

Emma grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him back down, laughing, and couldn’t help but feel grateful as she felt her spirits lift. “That’s not what I meant and you know it so sit down.”

“So since you have the evening off, I guess it’s safe to assume I won’t be seeing you at the bar tonight.”

“Yes, that would be a safe assumption.” She glanced to the huntsman with a sly grin. “Don’t worry, though, Ruby’s still working.” He opened his mouth as if to say something and then immediately closed it. No doubt, he knew there was no use in denying his fling with the brunette; at least not to Emma. “How are things with Ruby?”

She’d tried to keep her tone casual, but it was obviously a loaded question, one that Graham easily picked up on. “As close as you two are, I’m sure you’ve heard all about how things are going.”

“True, but that’s only her take on things. I’m curious as to what you think.”

“I don’t quite trust my feelings on the matter to remain in confidence.” The women of Tortuga were notorious gossips.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t breathe a word.” And she wouldn’t. She loved Ruby to death, but she’d also grown to care for Graham over the four years she’d known him and wouldn’t want to break his trust. He remained silent, obviously still hesitant, but she figured a little encouragement never hurt. “I know she’s missed you ever since you moved away.”

Graham turned to her with a discerning grin. “Are you trying to play matchmaker, Emma?”

“Not at all, just trying to figure out your intentions with my friend.”

The playful expression drifted from his face and he looked back out over the ocean with a deep sigh. “I assure you, my intentions towards her are nothing but honorable, even while our current situation may not be.”

Emma had been on the receiving end – genuine at first, joking later – of Graham’s charisma, but she’d had few chances to really see the gentlemanly side of the huntsman that her friend occasionally spoke of. The fact that he was all but admitting to wanting something more proper with Ruby convinced Emma of her long-standing belief of his hidden feelings.

“She’s scared.”

“I know.” The fact that he knew, that he understood Ruby’s inherent fear, and still pursued her was endearing.

There were so many things Emma wanted to say about her friend – that she had a rough time growing up in Tortuga, that she was just as infatuated with Graham as he was with her, that the way she would talk about him is different from other men – but she settled on something simple.

“Just give her time.”

“I will; I have no plans of giving up on her. Eventually she’ll come around.”

* * *

Three hundred eighty-eight days

Emma stretched languorously, pointing her toes and arching her back, before curling into the warmth of the bed. It was early, the sky only showing trace amounts of light on the horizon through the windows, but the bed was empty. But then again, Hook was always an early riser.

She still called him Hook. His name – Killian – was special to her, one only uttered in heavy sighs as he kissed her, breathless moans as he touched her in all of the right places, or contented murmurs as she fell asleep in his arms. It just didn’t feel right to say it outside of their private moments, and he didn’t seem to mind since he never made a move to correct her.

Buried under the blankets, Emma could still smell him in the bed; the scent of leather and rum and sea that seemed to permeate his very being. Hook was… well, he’d turned out to be much more than she bargained for.

Their first night together had been one filled with passion; that overwhelming, mind-blowing feeling of finally giving in still made her head reel when she thought about it. He did that to her almost every time they slept together, but much to her surprise, Emma had discovered that there was a jealous side to Hook. For all his sexual exploits and numerous lovers over the years, he was still greedy and possessive of her, wanted her all to himself.

_“He wanted you. Probably would’ve forced himself on you, if I hadn’t showed up.”_

_Hook was seething, the fury rolling off of him in tense, angry waves, but a part of Emma refused to back down despite her vulnerable position. Both her hands were caught against the wall, one held tightly in his hand and the other snagged in the loop of his hook, and his body pressed against hers._

_“I can take care of myself. What makes you think I couldn’t fight him off?”_

_“You’re good, love, but not that good.”_

_And now she was annoyed, could feel her own anger rise to match his at the insinuation that she couldn’t take care of herself, and her words ground out through gritted teeth. “I could’ve fought him off.”_

_“He has three hundred more years of experience than you. Trust me when I say that if he wanted you bad enough, he’d have taken you.” He was purposefully taunting her now._

_Emma knew he wasn’t really furious with her. The pirate that had attempted to rape her was already dead, eviscerated by Hook’s cutlass, but the captain’s anger hadn’t lessened as the man bled out on the deck, and his worry had manifested itself into this rage. But despite knowing that, she couldn’t help but rise to his taunts._

_“What if I wanted him to take me?”_

_He growled and rolled his hips against hers, and Emma had to fight the moan that threatened to spill out at the contact. He was angry and she was angry but – bloody hell – she still wanted him right then._

_“I’m the only man that gets to take you.” The dark edge to his voice sent a shiver skittering through her body._

_Then he crashed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss and the moan she’d been fighting vibrated in her throat. He released her hands to grab at her breast, her waist, her ass and she wound her arms around his neck, tugging at his hair, pulling him to her. But she wasn’t ready to relent; she still fought for control, still spurred him on._

_“You’d force me, Captain?”_

_He chuckled darkly. “It’s not forcing when we both know you want it, love.” But even still, her words seemed to give him pause. He slowed his movements against her and rasped into her ear. “Tell me you want this. I’ll not take you unwillingly.”_

_And she really didn’t even hesitate, just ground the words out. “I want this.”_

_She’d had angry sex before, the kind that bordered on the edge of dangerous, but it had been nothing compared to what she felt now. This was… gods, it was electrifying and harsh and exactly what she wanted. She felt Hook reach under her skirt for her undergarments, felt them slide down her legs to pool around her ankles, and distractedly noticed that he had also freed himself from his pants at some point._

_Then he was lifting her, wrapping her legs around his waist, rucking her skirt up around her waist, and he didn’t even bother to shove his pants all the way to the floor, just let them hang below his hips, as he thrust into her roughly._

_Her head fell back against the wall with a thud and she groaned his name as he set a punishing pace. Sparks of pleasure danced through her body, stoking the fire he’d created. His face was buried against her neck, mouth alternating between nipping and sucking at her skin, as he rutted into her hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it – sometimes that was exactly what was needed – and when it was all over, they moved to the bed and collapsed there, Emma tucked to his side. His lips were pressed to her temple and the words were mumbled into her hair._

_“I don’t enjoy the thought of you with another man, love.”_

_“Then I guess it’s good that I’m all yours.”_

But while he might have been selfish for her, no one could ever say Hook wasn’t a generous lover. Most of the time, he preferred to take his time with her; seemed to enjoy watching her writhe under his careful ministrations, often bringing her to the edge – sometimes more than once – before seeking any pleasure for himself. Sometimes, though, Emma enjoyed being the one to take control.

_Hook’s pants were caught around his knees and her hands were against the outside of his thighs, holding him in place, as she took him into her mouth. Since most of the men she’d been with only wanted a good lay without much else, it was something she’d only done a few times, but she’d never quite gotten over the exhilarating feeling of power it gave her._

_She felt desire run through her at the groan he emitted, quickly followed by a curse, as she swirled her tongue around the tip of him, and his hand moved from her shoulder to fist in her hair as she began to bob her head steadily. She alternated between teasing him – licking down the length of him – and pleasuring him – taking him deep in her mouth – until she could sense it. The shallow thrusting of his hips, the slight flush to his cheeks, his increasingly ragged pants, the stiffening of his muscles. They’d been together enough times for her to recognize the signs, could tell he was close, so without warning, she pushed him back to fall on the bed, ripped off her pants, and climbed on top of him._

_He briefly made a move as if to flip them over so he could take control, but she fought against it, pushing him back down into the mattress. And he moaned her name like it was both a curse and a blessing when she slid onto him and began to move._

_His hand and hook were at her hips, guiding her as she rose and fell against him, and his eyes were glazed over as he watched her moving above him. The rush from being able to bring him to this point, of being able to pleasure him in such a way, was so arousing that it didn’t take her long to finish, and she felt his hook prick her skin when he followed her over the edge. His hips continued to move in a shallow rhythm for a moment before he finally stilled with a satisfied sigh._

_“Bloody hell, woman… I don’t know if you’ll ever cease to amaze me.”_

_And she leaned forward to rest her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat as he traced his fingers lightly over back._

It wasn’t all about the sex, though. They’d grown close in the years before sleeping together and all of those preceding moments seemed to serve the base for this thing they had going that still made her nervous to actually label. Tryst? Affair? Relationship? She didn’t know exactly what it was, but it had passed the point of casual a long time ago. In between their times of passion, there were moments so sincere they almost scared her.

_The venom running through her veins burned like hell._

_They had been exploring around the base of Neverpeak Mountain when they’d happened across a beehive, and although they’d tried to retreat quietly, the insects had attacked. Somehow, Hook had emerged unscathed; Emma, on the other hand, had emerged with several stingers lodged in her lower back._

_“The ointment will kick in soon.” It had been a vile-smelling substance procured from some plant on the island, but Hook had insisted that it would ease the effects of the poison._

_Emma clenched her teeth as her muscles tensed involuntarily in response to another rush of pain. Muscles cramping, hands twisted in the sheets, head pounding… surely dying would be a relief compared to this. And just when she felt like she couldn’t take another second, she felt his hand on her back._

_He massaged, moving in small circles over her bare skin, her shirt having been discarded – it hadn’t been necessary but he’d been so insistent with his stupid smirk – so he could tend to her injuries. His hand was cool against her clammy skin and she couldn’t help but be surprised at the comforting gesture. Still dwelling on his constant ability to surprise her, she suddenly realized she wasn’t tense anymore, that she’d relaxed into the bed._

_“Feel better?”_

_“Mmm…” It was an affirmative noise, the ‘yes’ she’d been trying to say not really taking complete form. “I saw you, you know.” His hand faltered for a second before resuming. “When we were running from the bees, I saw you kill that snake.”_

_They’d been running through the forest, the furious buzzing still following them, when they came upon a fork in the path. Emma had turned, trying to look down the path to the left and just barely saw a flash of green and the glint of steel out of the corner of her eye. When they resumed running, she’d glanced down to see two halves of a snake crumpled in the dirt._

_“You don’t always have to protect me like that. Plus, it’s not like it earns you any extra points in my book; I’d be in your bed at night either way.”_

_The bed shifted as he leaned forward and she couldn’t stop the chill that swept through her as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder._

_“There’s really no ulterior motive, love. Sometimes it’s as simple as me believing you to be worth protecting.”_

Pulling on a shirt and trousers, Emma exited the cabin to see the sun just peeking over the horizon, rays of light shining beautifully onto the clouds that dotted the sky; a beautiful start to the day. Most of the crew still slept, only a few moved about the deck, and she gave a slight smile to Jukes as he passed her carrying a huge coil of rope.

Stretching, she contemplated helping the cook get breakfast together when she heard both Hook and a feminine voice from up above at the helm. With a smile, Emma made her way up the steps; she knew that voice. The conversation ended abruptly at her arrival, an awkward silence filling the air, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Tinkerbell!” Emma stepped forward to give the petite woman a hug. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” The last time the pixie had visited the ship was probably four or five months ago when she’d arrived with a gift and message from Wind Runner. “How have you been?”

“Hello Emma – I’ve been well. I know it’s been far too long since I’ve dropped by and I only wish I were here now under better circumstances.” Tinkerbell took a couple steps back, wringing her hands nervously. “There’s something you need to know…”

“Tink.” Hook’s voice was sharp, the keen edge of it cutting the pixie off, and his expression unhappy.

The pixie turned to him, hands on her hips, clearly frustrated. “You can’t keep this from her, Killian. She has to know. We _have_ to tell her.”

Emma looked back and forth between the two people before her. Both were tense, their jaws clenched, and glaring at each other in a silent battle of wills. Not since one of the crewmembers had tried to accost her had she seen Hook this edgy, and she could honestly say she’d never seen Tinkerbell stressed. Overall, the situation didn’t bode well and she felt a nervous ball of energy begin to roll around in her stomach.

“Tell me what?”

But the question fell flat as they both ignored her and Hook spoke. “How do we even know the curse would affect her anymore?”

“What curse?” The only curse Emma knew of was the dark magic that had been in the knife – her fingers slid unconsciously to the scar that remained – but she’d been healed of that for a long time now.

“Think about it, Tink. Neverland’s a completely different realm; perhaps their tie was severed when we came here.”

“What tie?”

The pixie raised her eyebrows. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” But they’d fallen into silence again, clearly too involved in their own argument to take notice of her. She’d have more luck talking to one of the trees on the island.

Emma was just contemplating going back to bed – because this was a bizarre and unsettling start to her day – when suddenly, Tinkerbell turned away from Hook to face her. “Emma, what do you remember of your time before Neverland?”

It was a strange sort of question that immediately made her brow furrow in a combination of annoyance – because they’d refused to answer her questions – and concentration – because it really was hard to recall. She’d felt it more and more with each day spent in Neverland, the blank space in her memory growing until the only things she could readily remember were things that had occurred while in this realm.

“Umm… not too much.” An enchanted ceiling that reflected stars. “I mean, it’s all bits and pieces.” A swaying sign through the rain. “Just a flash here and there.” A full tankard sliding across a gleaming bar. “Nothing real concrete.” A grassy clearing.

“Then Neverland has taken most of you then.” The pixie’s face was disappointed as she turned to Hook once more. “You know that makes this a lot harder, right?” And it looked like Hook wanted nothing more than to stalk away in that moment but he stayed put, responding with one hard nod.

“Can either of you _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

All the secrets and vague questions were getting ridiculous; if something was going on that involved her, then – damn it – she wanted to know. With one last leveled glare at Hook, Tinkerbell turned to Emma.

“I’m not originally from here, Emma. I’m actually from the Enchanted Forest; I just decided to come to Neverland centuries ago with a group of my brethren. And the reason I haven’t come to see you in recent months is because I’ve been visiting some of the fairies that reside in the Enchanted Forest. While I was there, I met with the Blue Fairy. Do you remember her, Emma?”

Blue Fairy… it sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“It’s ok if you don’t; the memories of her would be some of the easier ones for Neverland to take since you two weren’t very close. Anyway, I was talking to her and she explained how the entire kingdom was in a state of panic because of a curse that had been enacted almost thirty years ago.”

Emma glanced at Hook but he wasn’t watching her; his head was turned, gaze fixed at some point over the water. “That doesn’t sound good… I hope everyone’s alright.” She really wished Hook would look at her.

“Everyone’s fine for now, but apparently there’s not much any of them can do because the curse only involved two people.” The pixie paused and Emma’s eyes slid back to her. “Emma, can you remember anything about your parents? Anything at all?”

A warm smile and soft hands; eyes crinkled in laughter and blonde hair.

“No. Not really.”

Tinkerbell sighed. “A long time ago, there were two women named Regina and Snow. They were friends for several years until one day a feud broke out between them. It was a terrible misunderstanding on Snow’s part, but Regina refused to forgive her, only wished to make her pay for the hurt she’d unintentionally inflicted.”

“That’s awfully cruel…”

“Things escalated into an all-out war that spanned several years and caused several casualties on both sides. Eventually, though, Snow and her comrades defeated Regina, banishing her to a far corner of the Enchanted Forest. Everyone picked up the pieces and with the Evil Queen gone, people were finally happy again; Snow even married a prince – her true love – and they reigned as King and Queen.”

Everything Tinkerbell was saying was jangling around in her head. A part of her insisted it was familiar, that she should know this, but another part of her claimed that this was just a fascinating story.

“In time, Snow fell pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful little girl. She was their first child, a princess. But on the day she was presented to the kingdom, Regina appeared. Still seeking a way to hurt Snow, the Evil Queen placed a deadly curse, a mortal curse, upon the child. The King and Queen were devastated, but the Blue Fairy came to them and was able to cast a counter-curse on the princess. It wasn’t enough to break the Evil Queen’s original curse, but it was enough to effectively stall it.”

“But all magic comes with a price…” Emma muttered the words, not even understanding where they’d come from or how she’d known them.

“That’s right, Emma, and there was a price to the Blue Fairy’s counter-curse. You see, what happened was the young princess and the Evil Queen became bound together, their very essences connected and tied to a single fate.”

“And what fate was that?”

“Death.”

The word seemed to echo in the area between Tinkerbell, Hook, and Emma.

“The Blue Fairy’s spell had saved the princess’ life for the time being but the original curse was still in place. Someone had to die to fulfill the curse, but now that the Evil Queen and the princess were tied to one another, it could be either one.”

“So who ended up dying?”

“Neither of them, yet, and that’s why the kingdom is in such turmoil. Another factor to the changed curse was that it came with a timeframe. Thirty years; that was how long they had to fulfill the curse. And in the end, if neither of them had died within that time, both would die.”

The silence spread out, settled around them, heavier than the air Emma desperately tried to inhale. But it was as if her lungs weren’t functioning properly, body couldn’t process the oxygen properly. She didn’t need Neverland’s memory-stealing magic to know that she hadn’t heard this story before, but something just didn’t _feel_ right.

“A tragic story, obviously… but what does all this have to do with me?”

“We can’t tell you, love. This is something you have to remember for yourself.” It was the first time he’d spoken since his attempts at cutting Tinkerbell off and Emma was slightly taken aback at the plaintive tone laced through the words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Even though her mind was whirling, trying to process something that was undoubtedly important. “Remember what?” And she didn’t even hear him move but suddenly Hook was in front of her. He stood close, his hook catching her wrist while his fingers brushed against her cheek.

“Remember who you are.”

“I’m Emma… Emma Swan.” Everything was so fuzzy, her past a blank space filled with cobwebs and dust. “What else is there?”

Then slowly, Hook leaned forward; he hesitated for a moment, as if to reconsider his actions, before closing the gap and lightly pressing his lips to hers. There was no pressure to the kiss, no teasing or demanding or seductive edge that usually accompanied the action. Despite being partially preoccupied with their prior discussion, Emma still had the presence of mind to feel surprised by the genuine sweetness of it all. She was still reveling in the easy, unhurried way his lips were moving against hers when her mind felt like it literally exploded.

It was all a jumble.

Voices and music and laughing and crying and dancing and rain on her face and wind in her air and grass against her skin and salt on her lips and stars above her head and the feeling of a hug and the clash of a sword and the sway of a ship and the warmth of a fire and the touch of a hand and the feeling of giving in and letting go and giving up and there was so much noise and so many images and so many sensations that she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe…

And when it all cleared, her memories were there as if they’d never disappeared in the first place.

The pressure left her – she didn’t even remember tensing up – and she relaxed, Hook catching her as she fell against his body. Realizing that she’d finally broken through the magic, Hook ended the kiss, nipping softly at her lower lip before pulling away to look at her. “Well done, love.” But his eyes were also sad and she didn’t understand…

And then she knew.

Her mother and the Evil Queen. Snow and Regina. Emma had believed the happily ever after endings to the stories she’d been told as a child, believed that, when her parents defeated and banished the Evil Queen, peace had reigned in her dark absence. Her parents had told her that to protect her from the truth and she’d believed them. But she’d been wrong. So very wrong. Regina had come back to cast a curse on her, the one person her parents cared for most, and her whole life had then become a race against the clock.

Still holding onto Hook, Emma looked to the pixie. “I’m cursed?”

“Yes.”

“And I’ll die if something isn’t done by my thirtieth birthday?”

“Yes.”

She tried to focus on Hook’s steady heartbeat, needing something to anchor her against the churning powerlessness she felt. This morning she had felt the happy obliviousness that Neverland granted; now she felt sick with the weight of her memories and the knowledge of what was to come. All of the times she’d been angry at how overprotective her parents were… now it all made sense. They’d been trying to keep her safe; not just from the normal evil of the world, but from the Evil Queen.

_“You have to die. You have to die so she can live.”_

The words floated back to her now and – oh god – it all made such perfect and awful sense. She looked at Hook, sure that her eyes portrayed the desperation she felt. “The guy that stabbed me back in Tortuga… he was sent by Regina, wasn’t he?”

“I’ve no doubt in my mind.”

He’d said Emma was meant to die, had to die so that she – the Evil Queen – could live. Because they were tied together, bound by a death curse, bound by a hate that stemmed from events that occurred before her time and that she had no control over. She was bound to either kill or be killed for no reason other than being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.

But how the hell was she supposed to overcome the curse and kill the Evil Queen?

“I have no idea what to do.” She pulled away from Hook, restless as she began to feel the stirrings of panic. “Regina… she has magic. I’ve heard the stories from when she was at the height of her power, all the evil things she could do, _did_ do. There’s no way I can go up against that and win. She’d destroy me before I could even come close.”

The longest long sword in the world couldn’t reach farther than Regina’s magic.

“Emma, the Blue Fairy also told me of a plan your parents had in place.” Emma remembered eavesdropping on her parents’ conversation the night of the marketplace incident; her father had mentioned something about sticking to a plan. “They believed it to be a way to break the curse without either of you having to die, but when you disappeared… well, there was no way to go through with the plan without you there.”

“That’s it, then!” The hope she felt was like fire as it rushed through her veins. “We’ll go back to the Enchanted Forest and follow this plan. That way it’ll break the curse and no one will have to die.” Even Hook’s countenance had changed at the unexpected opportunity. “What do we have to do? Did the Blue Fairy tell you what the plan was?”

Tinkerbell rushed forward, grabbing Emma’s hands, and the pixie’s face was so distraught that her heart immediately dropped; she didn’t even need to hear what was said next to know it wasn’t good news. “The Blue Fairy didn’t know. No one knows except the King and Queen and a few of their most trusted advisors. You would have to return to them, Emma; it’s the only way to find out how to break the curse. You’d have to go…”

Home.

The word twisted and turned until it formed a knot in her stomach. As she’d matured in Tortuga, Emma had thought several times about the life she’d left behind, had even entertained the occasional thought of returning; in the end, though, she’d always shoved the thoughts away, sure that her parents would never forgive her for the pain she’d put them all through.

“I… what if…”

Hook no doubt knew her well enough to understand the hesitant and slightly fearful expression in her voice. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much of a choice, love.”

And there wasn’t. Unless she wanted to dive headfirst into a fruitless battle that would, without a doubt, end in her untimely death, she had to return to her parents to carry out this plan they had.

“Ok.” Gods, how could that one accepting word make her feel so irrationally nervous? “We’ll go back and find them.”

“Good.” Tinkerbell had a determined edge to her expression. “Now we’ll have to work fast to get you both out of here before time runs out. Speaking of which, how much time do we have to work with here? How old are you, Emma?”

She honestly had no idea. When they made the portal jump with the magic bean, she’d been roughly twenty-eight and a half, but she had no clue as to how long they’d been in Neverland. With nothing to do except go on adventures and have fun, it had seemed pointless to keep track of time.

“I’m not sure. How long have we been here?”

“Starkey!” Hook’s bellow made Emma jump. “Bring your count of the days.”

Starkey, after having lived in Neverland for three hundred years, had decided this go round to maintain a calendar of sorts to keep track of their time here. The gruff pirate disappeared below deck before bringing forth a piece of driftwood with numerous marks gouged into its face, and they all watched as Hook counted.

With a sudden thought, Emma turned to Tinkerbell. “Does it really matter how long we’ve been here? I mean, this is Neverland; people aren’t supposed to age here.”

“You’re right to an extent. Neverland does prevent your body from aging, but it has no control over the age of your mind. So physically, your body is still the age it was when you arrived, but internally it’s different. This is a powerful curse, and I suspect it’s more likely to be tied to your real age than your physical one.”

Figures.

Hook looked up, finished counting the marks. “Including today, we’ve been here three hundred eighty-eight days. That would put Emma at…”

“Just over twenty-nine and a half.” Emma finished the sentence quietly. Had they really been in Neverland for over a year? Time flies when you’re having fun.

Tinkerbell was worrying her lip anxiously. “That doesn’t give us much time; a little less than six months to break the curse. You’ll have to leave immediately so you have as much time as possible to get back to your parents.”

“One problem, Tink – we don’t have a way to get home.”

“What?” The pixie’s voice was shrill, chastisement thick in her question. “You came here without having a way to get out?”

Hook crossed his arms in self-defense of his decision. “Well, it wasn’t like our trip here was exactly organized ahead of time; ended up being more of a spur-of-the-moment trip. I’m sure you remember the particulars of it.”

“This certainly complicates things.” Tinkerbell paced back and forth, deep in concentration, before halting. “It would take some convincing, but…”

“But what?”

“With enough pixie dust, we could enchant the ship so it will take all of you back to the Enchanted Forest.” Tinkerbell looked to them with an apprehensive expression. “But I’d have to go to Clarion with this and I can’t guarantee her cooperation. And even if she does, it’ll take time to create and gather enough dust… I honestly can’t say how long.”

Emma turned to Hook, not liking the grim set of his mouth or his tone. “Once again, it seems like we don’t have a choice.”

Tinkerbell gave them a sharp nod. “I’ll be in touch.” She then transformed back to her miniature form and flew away towards the island and Pixie Hollow to plead Hook and Emma’s case once more, requesting her brethren’s help in returning them home. Emma watched the pixie until her glowing form was out of sight before she turned to Hook.

“Why didn’t you forget everything?”

He seemed somewhat startled by the change in topic. “I forgot just as easily as you did, love. But I’ve also spent a great deal of time here and have had plenty of opportunities to practice remembering.” Three hundred years of practice at trying not to forget both Milah and his revenge. “Even still, Tink had to work at me for a while this morning before I remembered.”

“Oh.” For some reason it made her feel better to know he had a difficult time of it also. “You didn’t want to tell me about the curse.” It was meant to have been phrased as a question, but that would’ve just been out of courtesy because she knew he’d wanted to keep it from her.

His voice was soft and he averted his eyes. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a pirate, not a sorcerer. This is a completely different world and I know next to nothing about magic; not how or even if magical properties can even travel between realms. How do we know the curse would reach you here? What if it’s already broken and we don’t even know it?”

“And what if it isn’t?” Emma mirrored the pixie’s earlier testament and Hook looked to her.

“I know. But I find denial to be much easier than acceptance.” The words seemed hard for him to say. “Returning to the Enchanted Forest would force our hand; it’s either a confrontation or death. Here in Neverland, I don’t know what the outcome would be. It might end in death, but it could also mean life.”

Hidden deep between his words was a vulnerability, a very-real concern for her and her predicament, that touched her so deeply that she stepped forward quickly and wrapped her arms around his waist. His body remained tense, but his arms came around her in a fierce hug and he buried his face in her hair.


	11. A Regiment and A Returning Voyage

_“We lead strange lives, chasing our dreams from place to place.”_

* * *

“Lass, be a sweetheart and get me some gin.”

Wait for it…

“And then how ‘bout you come with me and we spend some quality time together.”

There it was.

The young sailor had been back and forth to the bar all evening, choosing to bother Emma instead of waiting for Ruby to make rounds at the tables. He really wasn’t unattractive – she’d certainly slept with worse before – and on any other night she’d probably choose to share his bed, but she just wasn’t in the mood tonight. She’d brushed off his advances, although he’d stubbornly refused to back down.

“Here’s your drink, but I wouldn’t count on getting any more than that.”

“Come on. It’s not like there’s much else you can do on a night like this.”

“I could sleep.”

“Aye, with me.”

“If I go with you, I doubt there will be much rest involved and I need my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need beauty sleep, lass; you’re gorgeous enough already.”

She rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but appraised the sailor. A line of storms had passed through the area over the past few weeks, bringing a string of illness to the town, and while she hadn’t come up with a full-blown sickness, the conditions were just enough to make her feel under the weather. She could use a pick-me-up. It might not hurt to… because he wasn’t… and she had been kind of…

The bar was fairly empty due to the deluge outside, and Emma, having convinced herself that Ruby could handle the few patrons that had shown up for the evening, was just getting ready to accept the sailor’s offer when she heard the rain. The two floors of rooms above the bar usually masked most sounds of the outside elements, so when the door opened and Emma heard the roaring of the downpour, she couldn’t help but look to see who would venture out in this mess. That’s when her heart skipped a couple times, beating painfully out of rhythm, and she forgot how to breathe.

Soldiers.

 _Royal_ soldiers.

Emma began to feel the stirrings of panic as she gaped at the group of ten men dressed in the uniformed garb of her former home. They paid for their rooms and stepped into the pub, glancing around at the furnishings but not really noticing her yet. Heart pounding, she whirled around, staring at but not really seeing the rows of liquor bottles in front of her.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?”

Ruby made her way behind the bar, dropping the empty tankards into the wash bin before taking a long drink of whatever ale she’d chosen for the night. “Bugger off, sailor, she’s not interested.” Ruby to the rescue.

“If that’s true, I’d like to hear it from…”

“I’m not interested.”

All earlier thoughts of leaving with the sailor had vanished, and Emma didn’t even turn around, just continued to stare blankly into space with her back to the soldiers, as the bar stool creaked slightly and was followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps that she assumed was her suitor finally giving up and retreating.

“Look at these guys. Royal soldiers… they’re a good ways from home.” Her usually observant friend didn’t even seem to notice that Emma was still dazedly looking the opposite direction, too absorbed in the rare sight of officers. “I wonder what they’re doing in Tortuga.”

What _were_ they doing here? Could they really still be looking for her? It had been eight years since she’d disappeared; most people would have given up on a runaway after that long, but then again, not everyone’s parents were Snow White and Prince Charming.

“Oh well, business is business no matter who’s pocket the money comes from. You have a new customer, by the way.” The brunette refilled her tray with drinks and made her way back onto the floor.

Slowly, Emma turned and tended to the sailor that had appeared at the bar, all the while keeping a wary eye on the officers that had stopped to talk to one of the patrons. There had been a small crew of pirates seated in a far corner that had conveniently disappeared at the sight of the soldiers in the short time her back had been turned. Being a pirate wasn’t a punishable crime; however, engaging in the act of piracy – plundering ships and stealing goods – was. Apparently, the group that had frequented the bar the past few nights was part of the latter group and had considered it in their best interests to leave port.

With a sinking feeling, she could do nothing but watch as Ruby meandered past the soldiers, drawing an appreciative gaze from more than a few, and motioned towards the bar. And then the soldiers were making their way to the bar. Damn it… she needed to get out of here. As the captain of their regiment – she’d not forgotten the royal insignias that described the various ranks – reached the bar, Emma did everything in her power to remain calm and nonchalant.

“Hello there, miss. Could we get a round of whiskey?”

She nodded and wiped her hands on the towel before working on fulfilling the order. Her back was to the men for the most part, and when it wasn’t she kept her eyes lowered. But it was foolish to think that a mere lack of eye contact would protect her.

“You know, you seem awfully familiar.”

The captain was studying her inquisitively and Emma fought hard against the nervous flush that threatened to color her cheeks. “Sorry, I can’t say the same for you.”

“Do I… know you?”

Sliding the glasses across the bar, she responded none too nicely. “Not unless the royal regiment makes a habit out of spending time in seedy port towns.”

Predictably, the captain’s gaze narrowed at the insinuation that he was less than honorable and seemed about to drop the line of questioning when he suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “I know! You remind me of Queen Snow.”

Honestly, what were the odds? Starting tomorrow, she would make a habit of visiting the local gambling hall because her luck was astounding. Although, since this could be considered a stroke of bad luck, maybe not.

“Same face, similar eyes.”

Emma was just about to excuse herself and find some way to escape when Ruby sauntered up, successfully drawing the captain’s attention. “August is having a crisis in reception and needs our help.” Which was a bald-faced lie and they both knew it; August had never in his life needed help in running any part of the bar, much less label it a crisis. As well as they knew each other, it didn’t take much for Emma to pick up on the brunette’s ploy.

Wordlessly, she followed Ruby out of the bar. She wasn’t surprised in the least to find August seated calmly at the reception desk, not a crisis in sight, and, therefore, also wasn’t surprised when Ruby made her way upstairs. August looked up as they passed and was about to say something when his sister cleanly cut him off.

“Cover the bar for a second. Emma’s not feeling well.”

Emma would have to talk to her friend about how often she lied, but since the lies were benefitting her this evening, she would do it another day. They made their way down the hallways, pausing only while Emma unlocked her door, and didn’t speak until the door was closed and they were in the safety of the room.

“Alright, spill.”

Ruby was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest and an expectant and curious look on her face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t _even_ give me that.” Yeah, Emma knew that wouldn’t have worked. “I’ve never once seen you lose your cool at the bar but back there… you were getting ready to lose it. So what’s going on?”

She could give any number of excuses as to why the men had made her nervous; they were royal soldiers, after all. But she didn’t want to lie like that… not when Ruby had entrusted her with an incredibly shocking secret of her own not long ago. With a deep sigh and one more glance at the brunette who had a Cheshire-like grin spread wide across her face, Emma began to explain everything of her past.

* * *

Four hundred sixty-one days

“That’s the last of it.”

Tinkerbell shook out the last of the bags that had contained the pixie dust, a few last shimmering specks falling to the deck of the Jolly Roger. Every inch of the ship had been coated in a fine layer of the dust to the point where it literally glowed in the evening light. Emma glanced down at the railing beside her, the normally dark, weather-worn wood now a glistening gold, and touched a finger to the dust.

“Don’t get too much on you, Emma. We want the ship to fly, not you.”

In the end, everything had worked out. Clarion had agreed to aid their escape from Neverland, and although it had taken longer than they had expected for the pixies to gather enough dust to enchant the Jolly Roger, their leave was now imminent. And it was about time, too. They’d kept an anxious eye on the count of days while they waited for the pixie dust, and now only eighty-four days remained until Emma turned thirty.

Not much time left.

The crew moved about the deck preparing the ship to make sail, with Hook occasionally barking orders from the helm. Their initial trip had been by way of magic bean; the harrowing sensation of falling wasn’t something Emma was eager to repeat so the fact that their return journey would be by flying put her at ease, as odd as it sounded. After one last order to weigh anchor, the sails billowed and the ship moved out into the ocean. Hook had told her once that the Jolly Roger was the fastest ship in all the realms and she believed it, watching as the magical island grew increasingly small until it was lost in the line where the sky meets the sea.

The water seemed to fly by beneath them as they picked up speed, wind whipping her hair into a tangled mess. It was then that she noticed Tinkerbell faintly glowing. Emma already knew, didn’t need to ask the question, but she did anyway. “You’re not coming with us?”

“Not right now.” The pixie smiled at her sadly. “There’s business I have to take care of here first, but then I plan to travel to your realm to help in whatever way I can with your quest.”

“But how will you find us?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ll be bringing along my own way of finding you.” And the mischievous smile she flashed reminded Emma of the stories she’d heard about the unfailingly impish nature of pixies. With one last hug, Emma bid farewell and watched as Tinkerbell transformed and circled her head a couple times before flying up to Hook who gave her a salute.

She watched until the ball of light disappeared much as the island had before bounding up the steps to stand with Hook at the helm.

He must have noticed the dismayed look on her face. “You’ll see her again, love. Just hopefully not here.” And Emma was inclined to agree. “Speaking of which, it’s time to think happy thoughts.” The last part was loud, a command to the entire crew.

“Do you even know how to fly a ship?”

“Well I imagine it’s a lot like sailing one, only without the water.”

The devil-may-care shrug that accompanied his words didn’t reassure her much, but he smirked at her confidently. Emma gave him a skeptical look before inhaling deeply, breathing in the pixie dust that covered the ship, the power of it immediately bringing to mind flashes of her happy thoughts.

Many of them were the same as before – smoke, perfume, salt, and leather – but there were a few new scents that surprised her. The electric smell of a storm as she hid her face against Hook’s chest when thunder and lightning cracked overhead. The hint of wheat as her and Hook rested in the grasses of the Neverplain. The tang of rum as she tended to a scrape Peter Pan had incurred. The fresh air after the rain as she playfully shoved Hook into a pond only to join him moments later when he pulled her in. So many of them seemed to involve Hook in some way, shape, or form… it was almost embarrassing.

Glancing down at the deck, she noticed that most of the crew grinned widely, lost in their happy thoughts – most likely visions of rum and women – as they sailed along; even Hook was silent as he steered them. He’d been alive for so long, had far more years to create happy thoughts, but Emma couldn’t help but wonder if she had a place in his the way he did in hers.

With a slight shudder, the ship began to rise until it was sailing along above the water. Emma gripped at the railings, peering over the side of the ship in a combination of nervousness and excitement. The Jolly Roger pulled away from the water, the blue expanse of the Neversea falling farther and farther away from them as they ascended into the cloud bank. The moisture in the air dampened her clothes, but then they were above the clouds, seemingly floating in a veritable sea of stars. Everything was clearer, brighter, more vibrant, and it very nearly took her breath away as she turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Beautiful hardly came close to describing it, but she doubted a word existed that could adequately capture the splendor. The ship was surrounded by the inky blackness of the sky; it was a darkness much deeper and stronger than any night she’d spent in the Enchanted Forest or Neverland, and the stars seemed to shine even brighter for it. The air also held a faint shimmer that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be stardust.

“Very much so…”

Their journey was mostly silent. The rare experience of being in the skies and so close to the heavens brought a peaceful stillness to the crew of the Jolly Roger, one that everyone seemed unwilling to breach with needless conversation. Hook navigated them through the portal between the realms – second star to the left, this time – and they travelled on through the night, but Emma never retired to the cabin. Instead, she brought a pillow and blanket to the upper deck and stretched out beside Hook who still stood at the helm. Her hand rested lightly against his leg as they moved through the sky.

She honestly had no intentions of falling asleep, would have preferred to watch the stars go by around them, but when she felt someone shake her shoulder and opened her eyes, it was morning. The sunlight was bright and she brought a hand to block some of its rays, peeking around to see Hook smiling down at her.

“We’re about to land. I thought you might want to see it.”

She stood up, abandoning her makeshift bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and moved to the railing to watch their descent. There was a moment of panic when Emma saw how fast the Jolly Roger was approaching the water, but then the ship leveled out, gradually dropping until it touched down to the water much more gently than she’d anticipated. Once the rocking had ceased, the lull during the flight was broken. Crewmembers rushed around adjusting riggings and sails while Hook pulled out a map.

“Based on the stars… thirty degrees southwest… not enough wind… twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven…”

Emma watched as he studied the map stretched out over the helm and mumbled to himself, concentrating on setting a course for the royal palace. She sighed, quashing the thoughts of all that needed to be done, and immediately was wracked by a cough. Despite what she knew was clean, ocean air around them, it felt gritty and rough in her lungs after the pure Neverland atmosphere. It would take some getting used to again.

She continued to watch Hook for a moment before hesitantly speaking something that had been on her mind since she’d learned of the curse. “I want to go to Tortuga first.” Instantly, his eyes shot to hers, and the look on his face was not one of agreement. “I know we’re in a hurry, but…” She trailed off because there wasn’t a logical reason to her request; it was a more personal reason.

“We don’t have the time to waste, love. It’ll take us at least four weeks to get to your parents.”

“But my friends are there… they’re like my second family. I want them to know that I’m alive. They could even come with us; believe it or not, they’d be useful if it ever came to a fight.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “I highly doubt the two barkeepers have experience in battle.”

“No, but they grew up in Tortuga which can be just as bad. August has broken up more bar fights over his life than I can count and Ruby can take care of herself.”

“Even if your brother-of-sorts could stand his ground in a fight, I’ll still wager the girl to be more of a hindrance than help.”

With Ruby’s delicate stature, it was an obvious assumption to make, but… “You’d be surprised.”

“Knocking out men in a bar with a wooden club is far different than facing a sober man with a sword intent on taking your life.”

“I know that, but I know she can help.”

“No.”

“She’s a werewolf.” Hook turned to her, slack-jawed in disbelief. Since it was the first – and would most likely be the last – time Emma had ever seen the look on his face, she enjoyed it for a moment.

“She’s a… what?”

“A werewolf.” He continued to stare at her, although he’d recovered enough to close his mouth. “Transform at the full moon, terrorize villagers, silver bullets… the whole nine yards. I’m sure you know the stories.”

“Aye, I know the stories; I’ve just never had the pleasure of actually meeting one. So how has she managed to reside in Tortuga all her life without her little problem becoming the town’s problem?”

“It’s a long story, but it boils down to a cloak she’s had since she was young. As long as she wears it the night of the full moon, she won’t transform.”

“Hmm…” He was rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Clever… and potentially useful.”

Emma decided to press Hook again while he was still distracted by her revelation. “So then you agree? We’ll go to Tortuga first and then make way for the palace.”

Hook shook his head slightly in exasperation, but his upturned lips gave away his acceptance of their detour. “You are the most stubborn, infuriating, and prideful woman I’ve ever met. It’s a damn good thing you’re the loveliest or I would’ve thrown you overboard long ago.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As well you should.” He snagged her wrist with his hook, pulling her forward into a kiss.

His mouth slanted over hers while his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, something she willingly granted; she loved the way he always tasted faintly of rum. They were still at the helm, in clear view of the entire crew, but Emma couldn’t care less as she clutched at his shirt, pulling them together, pressing her body to his. His hand slid up her back before coming to rest at the nape of her neck, the feather-light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps.

After a moment, he ended the kiss, pulling away to press his forehead to hers. They were both breathing heavily; she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to just how good he was at… well, at everything.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Captain?”

He smirked and his eyes darkened as they often did when she called him by his title; the reference to his rank always seemed to thrill him in a completely different way than when she called him by his given name.

“Mmm… perhaps. Is it working?”

She cocked an eyebrow and her voice mirrored his husky tone. “Perhaps.”

She felt the rumble of approval in his chest as his lips captured hers once more, this time more insistently. Her hands abandoned his shirt, moving to wind around his neck instead, and his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her and holding her to his chest as he kissed her deeply. With Hook’s arms around her, she felt like she was floating just as much as the ship that had floated through the sky.

“Shall we adjourn to our quarters?”

“Hook, it’s the middle of the day.”

“And?”

“You’re incorrigible.” The chastisement was made pointless by her laughing and the fact that she was already pulling him towards the cabin.

Four hundred eighty-five days

Despite the Jolly Roger being the fastest ship in the realms, it still took them a little over three weeks to reach the port town that was her second home – or third, since Hook’s ship had also begun to feel like home. They made the most of the calm before the storm, spending time together both on the ship’s deck where they completed the everyday tasks that came with being at sea and within the confines of the cabin where they memorized every detail of each other as if they were running on borrowed time. The journey would’ve been peaceful had the urgency of the circumstances not been hovering over their heads.

Emma was in the crow’s nest admiring the lowering sun, its evening rays stretching out in beams to the spattered clouds and turning them brilliant shades of red, orange, and pink, when she spotted it in the distance. It was so faint, it was almost indiscernible, but the longer she stared, the more it appeared – a small streak along the horizon that slowly but surely grew into a coastline. Abandoning the crow’s nest, Emma scrabbled down the rigging and made her way to Hook.

“Tortuga?”

“Aye. We’ll be there by nightfall.”

She hesitated at his curt tone. “Are you alright? You’ve been acting different since we’ve returned.”

It had been subtle at first, an edginess she wasn’t accustomed to seeing in the pirate, but had steadily grown into an all-out tenseness. Hook did a better job at most of masking his feelings, and he’d attempted to hide the tension, tried to cover it up with his usual charm and innuendos, but Emma was still able to pick up on the difference.

The sigh wasn’t audible, but Emma could see the deep breath he took. “I’m fine, love.” She was strongly reminded of her mother saying the same thing to her father when she was very clearly not fine.

“You know, it’s okay to admit if you’re nervous.” There was a playful lilt to her words, but at the same time, she meant them. She’d never tell Hook directly, although it was likely he already knew, just how much it meant when he confided in her things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. “ _I’m_ nervous.”

The stress that had lined his features smoothed away and his tone took on the playfulness hers had. “Fine, I’m nervous. Happy?”

But Emma wasn’t entirely convinced. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and that strange ability of hers to know when someone was lying was niggling at the back of her mind. He wasn’t lying… but he wasn’t telling the truth either. Their trust and understanding of each other had grown deep over the years, so the fact that Hook was clearly holding something back made her slightly uneasy. Worrying about it wouldn’t do her any good, though, so she dropped the line of conversation, figuring he would either work through it on his own or talk to her when he was ready.

“I guess.” She said it blithely, maintaining her teasing tone despite the fact that his had been forced. Then, after a light kiss, she made her way to the main deck and watched as the coastline drew ever closer, the smudge of land slowly forming the cliffs, forests, and buildings of Tortuga.

The Jolly Roger eased up to make port, and everything was quickly forgotten as Emma stepped foot on the dock, a wave of nostalgia flooding her body as she made her way through town, Hook shadowing her silently. The dilapidated docks still sported old boards that sagged from years upon years of use, the trail to her old practice clearing was now overgrown from the year of abandonment, the red lights of the brothels shone on the women lounging about outside calling to passerby, and The Salty Dog Inn’s weathered sign still hung crookedly above the door.

Anticipation whirled in her stomach as she approached the inn. Emma hesitated a moment, hand poised inches from the latch, until she felt the steel of a hook touch lightly to her lower back in support before finally opening the door. And it might have been over a year since Emma had stepped foot in The Salty Dog Inn but not a single thing had changed. The sights and smells and sounds… all of them exactly the same.

“If you’re looking for a place to stay, you’ll have to go somewhere else. We’re completely booked.” Hook stood between her and the voice, but the familiarity of it brought a faint smile to Emma’s lips.

“We’re not here for a room, mate.”

“Then I trust you can either find your way to the bar or find your way out.” Still all business; August hadn’t changed a bit.

“We’re not here for a drink, either.”

At that, Emma decided it was time to step from behind Hook. “Hey, August.” When his eyes shifted from Hook to her, he gaped and seemed to dissolve into a momentary state of shock. “It’s been a while.”

“Holy hell…” He mumbled the words, but then repeated the phrase with more conviction. “Holy hell.”

“You’ll catch all the flies in the inn if you keep your mouth hanging open like that.” It was something he used to tell her when she was younger and was first being exposed to the lecherous men that frequented the bar.

“Ruby, get in here!” August yelled it out as he stumbled to his feet and grabbed for the edge of the reception desk. It seemed he didn’t quite trust himself to cross the distance between them yet.

The three of them stood there without moving until Emma heard another familiar voice. “She said to tell you she’s busy and to bugger off. Is everything alright?” The huntsman came to a stop, visibly paling when he noticed her, and turned on his heel, disappearing back into the bar without another word. There was a slight commotion before Graham reappeared, dragging a complaining Ruby into the entrance hall.

“What the hell is going on? Do you not see all the people in there? You act like I have all the time in the world to just…”

The words died, trailed off as Ruby’s eyes finally landed on Emma. It only took a second for her to recover, though, because then she was rushing forward and pulling Emma into a tight hug only to step away moments later to fix her with a glare.

“Where have you been?! We didn’t know what happened to you. I mean, we got a note before you disappeared, but it didn’t really explain where you were going… and you’ve been gone over a year and we haven’t heard anything from you. Fuck, Emma, do you know how worried we’ve been about you. For all we know you could’ve been dead… god, you have so much explaining to do!”

The anger in Ruby’s voice wasn’t anger at all but concern and worry and relief, and Emma took the brunette’s tirade in stride. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t.”

“Was it because of this bastard?” She pointed accusingly at Hook, his eyes widening at being the focus of the anger. “I swear to all the gods, I’ll kill him.”

Ruby began to move, but Emma grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. “Stop, Ruby, it wasn’t his fault! He saved me.” Based on the shocked looks, her words were unexpected, but they’d done the job of effectively calming her friend who continued in a much lower voice.

“He saved you? From what?”

None of what they need to talk about could be said around potentially eavesdropping ears. “Do you have some place we could talk? In private?”

“Yeah, we can go to our room.” She looked to Ruby, surprised. “What, you thought I’d move back in with Dad and August? No way. I kept everything exactly how it was… I guess I never really gave up hoping you’d come back.” And Emma had to blink away the wetness that had gathered in her eyes at her friend’s sentiment.

The entire group made their way upstairs, August brushing off Ruby’s snarky comment on leaving the bar unattended, and they entered the room Emma and Ruby had shared since they were twenty-two. While her friend’s side had changed slightly over the past year, Emma’s remained the same, right down to the patchwork quilt covering her still-unmade bed. Ruby, August, and Graham were having a whispered conversation on the far side of the room as she meandered over to her bed, fingering the quilted material lightly, and it wasn’t long before she felt Hook’s calming presence beside her.

“So this was your bed?” Of course, he’d never seen it. Back then, she was still studiously pretending that she didn’t want him.

“Yeah. It’s smaller than I remember.” She could feel his gaze on her, and feeling suddenly cheeky, continued with a smirk. “I told you we both wouldn’t have fit in here.” It was so long ago. He’d been harassing her at the bar after a lesson when he’d made the comment about being too drunk to go back to his ship and that she should just let him stay with her.

“It was a convenient excuse, but as you well know, I can make anything work.”

“Not always with the best results, though.”

“I don’t know, love. I think that evening on the hammock turned out fairly well. It might have been quite a bit of work, but you certainly seemed to enjoy it.” And she couldn’t help but blush at the reminder of them in the hammock, trying not to fall between the knots of rope or flip entirely even as they remained unwilling to stop touching each other.

“Or what about that bit with the tree limbs? There would have been sand everywhere – and I literally mean everywhere – without that makeshift cot.” The limbs had turned out to be incredibly uncomfortable, but she’d been the one that issued the challenge, telling him she’d give in if he could find a way to keep them out of the sand.

“Oh, and remember that time in the crow’s nest? I’m sure you do. I’m quite proud of that one.”

The crow’s nest was barely big enough for one person. She still wondered how he’d managed to squeeze up there with her and do everything he had without knocking the both of them to their deaths.

“Why are they all related to sex?” She cocked a teasing eyebrow. “I’m sensing a pattern here; is that the only time you can ‘make anything work’?”

He paused, considering, before flashing a smirk. “No, those just happen to be examples of some of my better moments.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a pirate.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Which was true.

“Emma?”

She turned to look at her three friends who had apparently finished whatever private conversation they’d been having. They stood there, waiting for her explanation of what had happened and where she’d been for the past year, but Emma felt like it was only yesterday that she’d last been here. So much about the town, the inn, her friends still looked the way it had before she’d left, and as Emma stared at the three people before her, she began to consider the possibility that time had stood still for Tortuga much as it had in Neverland.

Except that things weren’t the same.

Everything had changed.

“It started the afternoon before I disappeared.”

With that, Emma explained everything that had happened during her absence. The attempted assassination, Hook’s stalling of the dark magic, the trip to Neverland, the pixie’s cure, the loss of their memories, the revelation of the curse, the truth of her heritage. All of it spilled out in a rush, while August, Ruby, and Graham listened on in silence.

It was funny, really. Every situation Emma and Hook had experienced had seemed so dire, so desperate, so shocking. Now, looking back on it as she spoke, Emma couldn’t help but think how the whole story would make a wonderful fairytale one day if they succeeded. Maybe that was how all good fairytales came into being, though. The tale of Prince Charming waking Snow White from the sleeping curse to live happily ever after was fanciful, something often told to children before bed. What they didn’t know was how bloody hard everything had been for them up to that point.

As she wrapped up with how they only had sixty days left to find a way to break the curse, she was met with continued silence. Just as she was beginning to believe that they were going to handle the news better than expected when they all three began talking at once.

“You’re a princess?”

“You went to Neverland?”

“You’re cursed?”

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yes.” She didn’t need to clarify which one she was answering since that one word worked for all four questions. After a pause, she meekly suggested the primary reason for her wanting to stop in Tortuga first. “I was hoping you might want to come with us.”

Ruby snorted in a distinctly sarcastic way just as August spoke first to her and then to Hook. “As if we would just stay here. Is there room for us aboard your ship?”

A sharp nod. “Aye. We’ll push off as soon as you’re ready.”

And at that, Ruby dug out a bag and moved to the dresser. Emma was just about to walk over to help her pack when all the lights in the room went out. Emma froze in the sudden darkness, while Ruby let out a small squeal and August cursed under his breath when it sounded like he kicked a piece of furniture.

The metal pieces of the two lanterns they’d been using popped in the eerie silence, and Emma noticed that the fire was completely smothered, not even glowing coals remained. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she realized there was something else at work here. Hook apparently had the same idea. When she reached out her hand, it almost immediately found his and he pulled her to his side.

“Emma…”

But nothing more was said because at that moment the door slammed open and she felt hands grabbing at her, pulling her away from Hook. They held on, her fingers curling around his, until a body crossed between them and broke their hold. She heard Hook yell as the hands grabbed ahold of both her arms now, wrenching them behind her back in an attempt to subdue her, but she was already fighting, throwing her head back and making contact with a sickening crunch even as she saw stars at the jarring impact. The hands loosened enough for her to rip an arm free and she jammed her elbow back into the body behind her, causing the arms that held her to slacken even more.

The sounds of fighting filled the room, but Emma knew her friends would be unable to fight back effectively. Their attackers moved accurately around them, almost as if they could see, but in the darkness, Emma and her friends were limited to hand-to-hand combat unless their opponent was right at them. To pull out a sword would be to risk injuring an ally instead of a foe. Still, Emma knew where her attacker was. If she could only reach the knife in her boot…

She twisted in the arms that held her, breaking their hold, and hands grabbed desperately at her clothes and arms in an attempt to keep her from escaping. With one last violent turn, she felt the last hand lose grip on her arm and lurched forward, hand immediately reaching for the small blade. She was almost there when someone grabbed her hair, the sudden hold jerking her to a stop with a pained yelp. The person pulled roughly and she fell to the floor with a loud crash, landing on something hot that burned at her back and sent blades of pain shooting up her arm.

The foe dragged her backwards, away from the rest of the fighting, and she clawed at the hand fisted in her hair. When they stopped, hands came from nowhere to hold her arms and legs down, and although she couldn’t see, Emma could feel the body that crouched above hers. With a sudden puff of foul breath, a strange powder filled her nose, overwhelming her every sense.

She coughed and sneezed, trying to avoid breathing in the substance, but it dragged her under into an even deeper darkness.


	12. A Huntsman and A Wolf

_“She’s mad but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.”_

* * *

“I haven’t seen you around here before, sailor.”

The newcomer grabbed the tankard and tipped it towards Emma in a toast before taking a long drink. “First time I’ve been here. And I’m not a sailor.”

It made sense. With his neutral-colored attire – all tan and green and brown – and buckskin boots, he seemed to belong more in the woods than at sea. “Well if you’re not a sailor, what brings you to Tortuga? This isn’t exactly a popular place for tourists.” In truth, it wasn’t a popular place for any person not equipped to handle the rouges that came through town.

“I’m a huntsman. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it’s not always animals.” The implication was simultaneously intriguing and disconcerting. “Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I’m on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out.”

Great minds think alike.

“We have enough problems of our own to deal with so I hope you didn’t bring trouble with you.”

Although, with wavy hair falling into his eyes and a beguiling grin, spending time with the handsome man was almost worth any trouble that followed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Ruby stalked up, voice edgy. “Emma, we need to switch.” A patron must have been harassing the brunette badly for her to request the trade. August had repeatedly reminded them that avoiding violence in the bar was preferable, so the two barmaids would usually switch places before resorting to using the club.

“Sure thing, just let me…”

“You are most beautiful.”

They both turned to the seated huntsman, and as he gazed fixatedly at her friend, Emma could see her chances of going home with the handsome stranger fly right out the window. It seemed Ruby would be the lucky one tonight.

“Yeah, thanks.”

But not if she shut him out like that.

Continuing to smile up at Ruby, he seemed unperturbed by the snub. “I’m Graham.”

“That’s nice.”

With a sharp tug, Emma pulled her friend aside. “What’s wrong with you? There is a perfectly handsome guy that is obviously interested in your perfectly gorgeous face and most likely wants to take your perfectly cute butt home with him. So why are you shutting him down?”

“After all the crap that guy at the bar was pulling, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Bullshit.” Ruby was never not in the mood.

“Collins is here.”

Tortuga couldn’t boast that it had many young, handsome, available men; most of them were old, grizzled sailors, roughened from years on the sea or working hard at the harbor. This meant that Ruby and Emma’s options for an evening lover were usually limited to the younger sailors and pirates that ventured into town when their ships made port. Collins was the exception. A little older than both the girls and generally attractive, he was considered a catch in the port town, and had been an occasional evening companion of Ruby’s for some time.

“Ok… as far as I know you two aren’t exclusive. Plus, are you seeing the same thing I am? Seriously, look at him.”

The brunette looked at her customary lover before shooting a sideways glance to the huntsman. Really, the two men weren’t comparable at all. Emma could see the moment Ruby gave in, could tell it in the slight sigh she emitted and the small quirk of her lips that turned into a full on devilish smirk.

“He _is_ handsome.”

* * *

When Emma came to, it was sudden, complete, and painful. Her head pounded, her body ached, and her lungs burned with the aftereffects of what she now recognized as poppy powder. The memory of the fight in the darkness flashed through her mind and her body jerked involuntarily in response, eyes immediately slamming shut at the pain that accompanied the movement.

“Easy now, love.”

Hook’s voice was soothing, as was the hand he placed on her cheek, and Emma slowly opened her eyes to focus on his face. His hair was slightly damp, there was a smear of blood across his forehead, and a bruise was beginning to form on his cheekbone, but his blue eyes still shone bright through the dimness of their surroundings.

“What happened?”

“We were ambushed by a group of pirates. They must have been waiting for us and followed us upstairs.” With Hook’s help, she moved to a sitting position, stubbornly ignoring his disapproving look when she winced in pain. Sure enough, they were aboard a pirate ship; more specifically, in the brig.

During their time in Neverland, the crew of the Jolly Roger had withstood a particularly strong storm that kept them cabin-bound for a few days. When the storm had passed, Emma had teased Hook mercilessly on how filthy the ship had become in the short time without its daily cleanings, despite its usually clean and organized appearance. Taking in the exceptionally unsanitary conditions of their current surroundings, she vowed never to tease him again.

“You think they were specifically after us?”

Turning to the side, she repositioned until she could rest against the bars, trying to ignore their slimy coldness. She spotted Ruby and August still asleep on the floor, while Graham crouched nearby watching over them carefully; their entire group had been captured and thrown into one of the two cells in the brig. But why?

“I find it hard to believe the attack and kidnapping to be a mere coincidence. And I have a feeling I know who’s behind this.”

Emma paused, glancing at Hook. “Regina.” And he nodded curtly, expression grim. “Maybe they just overheard something and wanted to hold us for ransom.”

“I’ve had more than my fair share of skirmishes with other pirates over the years, but I’ve never come across any that were in the possession of magical items.” The instant loss of light in the room and the fact that their attackers had been able to see despite the darkness were both telltale signs of magic. “It’s not something we typically dabble in.”

“If this was Regina’s doing, why bother taking any of you? I’m the one she wants.”

“Convenience, maybe. We were all there; they might try to sell the rest of us off as slave labor in the distant islands.” It was the first time Emma had heard of slavery still being practiced, even in the outer reaches of the kingdom, and she decided to revisit that particular item if they survived. “Or they could’ve decided to take us all just to be safe. No people left behind to raise the alarm and possibly send out a search party.”

She thought of The Salty Dog Inn’s owner. He’d never been the overly caring sort of father, but she knew without a doubt he loved his children. “Geppetto will know August and Ruby are missing.”

“But not right away.” And Hook was right; their absence would probably be written off and attributed to a bad hangover until they both failed to appear for their shifts the following evening. “That delay is enough of a head start.”

She peeked his way to find him staring at her. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that what you’re saying makes sense to me or the fact that you’re saying it to begin with, like you know from experience.”

Pirates would be pirates; they typically fended for themselves and lived by their own code of honor, each one distinct to the captain of the ship. Hook had shared most of his past with her, but she’d often wondered if he’d skirted around telling her certain details that might have been less than favorable. She hoped to all the gods she knew that he’d never committed deeds such as selling people into slavery.

“Knowing their motives just means I have the mindset of a pirate, not that I’ve ever taken part in such acts. As for you being able to understand what I’m saying… that just means you’ve turned into more of a pirate than you care to admit.”

Emma rolled her eyes and returned her focus to Graham, watching as his thumb moved in small circles across the back of Ruby’s hand. The implication of her being a pirate somewhat bothered her even as the rest of his words reassured her. His personal code of ‘good form’ apparently extended to far before she’d ever met him; had kept the once proper, royal navy lieutenant from delving into some of the darker parts of piracy.

“It still doesn’t make sense… if she needs me to die, why bother capturing me at all? She sent that assassin before; what stopped her from doing the same again?”

“Well, the last time she tried that route, it didn’t end quite how she’d planned. Regina might have figured it safer to bring you back alive and then have you killed there.”

“Or she just wants to kill me herself.”

What a morbid thought.

Her parents had skimmed over some of the grislier details of the Evil Queen’s abilities, but she had found out from others in the palace – namely, Grumpy – what Regina was capable of. Having her heart ripped from her chest and crushed before her eyes was not something Emma was eager to experience. Being killed by the mermaids in Neverland suddenly didn’t seem as bad; at least that way she would have died fighting.

“How did she even know we were in Tortuga? We’ve been gone for over a year.”

“She could have had sentries placed there… or spies.”

But they never got the chance to delve any further into that line of questioning because Ruby chose that moment to wake up with a harsh cry. Immediately, Graham was leaning over her, speaking to her softly and comfortingly, assuring her that everything was alright – even though it wasn’t. They were alive, sure, but for how long, no one could say.

Needing to see her friend, wanting to make sure she wasn’t injured, Emma moved to stand only to collapse back against the bars, her head making contact with a dull ring. The pain was fleeting but had been unexpected and sharp enough in the moment to draw out a strangled hiss of pain. Her head slowly ceased its jangling from the impact with the cell, and she came to realize Hook had snagged her wrist with the metal appendage while his fingers probed uncomfortably at her forearm, side, and back.

“We need to dress your arm.”

More wounds…

Emma recalled the pain she’d experienced when she’d fallen back at the inn. During the chaos of the fight, there hadn’t really been time to process the extent of her injury, but now she was able to see the damage that had been inflicted. Dried blood was crusted in the sleeve of her shirt, and the gash in the fabric revealed a number of scratches along with five or six tiny incisions, one of which still held a jagged piece of glass. The crunching, the piercing pain in her arm, the burning against her back… she must have fallen on one of the still-hot lanterns they’d been using before the commotion.

The pain in her arm was a dull, stinging pain that was more of a nuisance than anything, but the burn on her back was what had prevented her earlier movement, pulling as she tried to stand. Burns had a nasty way of crusting over only to crack open again later; if she were to inspect the wound now, there would no doubt be open lines that cut through the healing skin.

“Do you think your friend could lend us a strip of fabric from her cloak?”

“No.”

It wasn’t even an option.

His eyes shot to hers as he cocked an eyebrow imperiously. “Taking a piece from the hem won’t injure her any further. She’ll be fine.” Since he was already rising and moving away from her, Emma was forced to ignore the pulling of her burn as she reached out to grab the end of his sleeve.

“That cloak is the only thing that keeps her from transforming at the full moon.” It wouldn’t do for their pirate captors to hear of Ruby’s little secret, so Emma kept her voice quiet. “If you mess it up… we’ve never had to figure out what might happen if the cloak is damaged and I’d rather not test it now, not while we’re trapped in a cell with her.”

There had been an instance a few years back when a troublemaking kid had swiped Ruby’s cloak the night before the full moon. Left without a way to prevent the transformation, Emma had been forced to secure her friend for the night to ensure she wouldn’t be free to roam and potentially kill anyone. At the time, Ruby had told her she was able to retain cognitive thoughts in her other form to a certain degree, but the fearsome creature that had alternated between pacing restlessly and lunging against its bonds hadn’t been the most reassuring sight. Emma had no desire to test a werewolf’s power of resistance without any way of escape.

“You can use pieces from my top. It’s already messed up anyway.”

Hook seemed to hesitate for a moment before sighing exasperatedly and dropping back down beside her. The soft ripping sound of her shirt drew Graham and Ruby’s attention and Emma smiled reassuringly at the pair.

“I hope you’re not too attached to this shirt, love, because I daresay it’s ruined after this.”

It stung when he pulled out the piece of glass, but she was grateful for its removal. Being able to feel its presence every time the muscle that surrounded it moved had been incredibly uncomfortable. Hook calmly cleaned her arm and examined the burn on her back; it wasn’t the first time she found herself thinking that, for a pirate that operated using one callous-covered hand and a hook, he was always surprisingly gentle.

“Stupid pirates…”

“Excuse me?”

He abandoned the inspection of the burn to pull back and stare at her. “I was just thinking about how Regina must have hired these guys. If pirates weren’t so bloody greedy, we might not be in this predicament.”

“Yes, greed is an unfortunate trait; although, it’s shared by more people than just pirates.”

Hook was right. There was no way the term could be strictly applied to pirates; not when it affected much of the populace of the Enchanted Forest. When greed was involved, honor could be compromised and loyalty could be bought, which no doubt played a part in their capture. With his eyes downcast and voice soft, Emma felt the sting of guilt at lumping him with her stereotypical idea of the group. Perhaps a change of subject would be best…

“Do you know this ship we’re on?”

“Why should I? Because I’m a pirate?”

Ouch… so maybe he wasn’t willing to let her generalizations drop so quickly. “I just thought that, if you knew the captain, you might be able to convince him to help us.”

Emma had offended him; that much was clear. His eyes remained trained on her arm as he calmly dressed the wound and pointedly ignored her. It hurt to know that she’d inadvertently hurt him.

“You’re more than just a pirate, Hook.” Using his hand and teeth, he tightened the wrappings and sat back to slowly meet her eyes. “And I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re greedy.”

It was her saying she was sorry with saying ‘I’m sorry’ and seemed to be enough for him as he let it drop. “I may have had an… encounter with this ship and her captain before.” His hesitation spoke volumes. “Let’s just say I’m not the most welcome pirate aboard this vessel.”

Whatever meeting the two captains had in the past had clearly burned any bridges that would help them to escape their current plight. There would be no hope at swaying their captor’s allegiance and they would receive no aid.

They were stuck.

Their time in the brig passed slowly, minutes turning into hours that turned into days. It was hard to keep track of time; the only glimpse to the outside world they ever saw was when one of the crew would venture down to deliver meals – but Graham estimated that it had been roughly a week and a half since they’d been kidnapped. During that time, Emma was plagued by a bout of insomnia. Sleep was hard to come by, and when it did come, it was plagued with nightmares that led to an all-around fitful sleep that was almost not worth having.

It was on one of those restless nights that Ruby approached Emma, leaving her place by the sleeping huntsman’s side to sit against the bars. Being thrown in the same cell had its advantages – they were all together – but it also had its disadvantages – they were all together. The constant presence of the men had left absolutely no time for the two girls to talk about anything personal and was starting to lead to testosterone overload.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. This storm… ugh.”

All of her time spent on the Jolly Roger had conditioned Emma to life on the water. It had taken a little while for her to adjust during those first few days, but she’d quickly moved past the initial seasickness and arrived at a point where she now didn’t even really notice the harsher-than-normal swaying of the ship that accompanied the outside storm. Ruby, on the other hand, had never spent much time at sea, despite having lived her entire life in a port town, which was now causing problems. Even in the dim light of the brig, Emma could see the slightly green tint in her friend’s face.

“Here’s the bucket if you need it.” Their pirate captors had reluctantly given them a bucket after seeing Ruby’s condition after the first day. The ship was disgusting but apparently the crew drew the line at swabbing yesterday’s regurgitated meal.

“Thanks.”

The brunette took a deep breath, most likely to quell the churning she no doubt felt in her stomach. It was funny how Emma’s stomach churned just the same, although hers had nothing to do with seasickness and everything to do with what was going to happen when they arrived at their destination. She tried not to think about it, did her best to keep her mind occupied with other things, but their current accommodations didn’t offer many distractions.

“So now that we finally have some time to ourselves, what’s the deal with you and…” Ruby motioned to Hook who was sleeping in one of the far corners of the cell.

Emma paused, watching the pirate for a moment. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, like he’d never had to go through three hundred years of suffering. “That… is a long story.”

That was also an understatement.

“You finally gave in, huh?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” It had only been a sneaking suspicion that night they’d arrived in Tortuga – the fact that Graham followed them upstairs, how they stood just a little too close to be casual, a few secret glances between them – but being able to observe them together since then had confirmed it.

Ruby chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I guess we’re both fools at heart.”

“I still took a while.”

“I figured as much.” It used to be said that Ruby was the only one who truly knew her, but now she had to share that label with Hook. “I didn’t. Take long, that is.”

“It’s probably a tie. You were pushing Graham away long before I ever met Hook.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “When you disappeared… Emma, I’d never been so worried in my life. Everyone was saying it, that you were dead, and we went so long without hearing from you that I couldn’t help but start to consider it. I didn’t want to believe it, though; you have to know that.”

Emma did, although she wouldn’t have faulted Ruby if she had given up because a year and a half was a long time to hold out hope for something.

“I spent all those years telling myself not to get too involved with Graham, convincing myself that it would only end bad. You being gone, though, it made me think.” Ruby’s gaze drifted to the sleeping huntsman. “What if something happened to me? Nothing like what’s going on with you, obviously, but something that kept me from him, kept me from telling him how I really felt. It hurt – like, physically hurt – the thought of never seeing him again, and I knew if I didn’t tell him how I felt, it’d be something I’d regret for the rest of my life.”

“What did he say when you told him?”

Ruby’s eyes met hers again. “I didn’t so much verbally tell him. One night, I just didn’t leave. I stayed with him.” And that was a prime example of actions speaking louder than words. “It was perfect, Em. I just laid there with him and eventually he realized I wasn’t going to leave so he held me; didn’t really say anything, just held me all night.”

Emma wasn’t a crier – never had been, never would be – but right then she had to blink away the tears of happiness for her friend that were threatening to form. Old habits die hard; it couldn’t have been easy for the woman to let go of all the stubborn years spent protecting her heart.

“Ours wasn’t quite that calm.”

“That’s because of all that damn sexual tension you had going on. It was insane. You two trying to resist each other was like playing with fire.”

Fire – the perfect word to describe their relationship. It had started with a smolder, simmering at the edges, able to either grow or be put out. It had strengthened into a small flame, enough to get her attention, warm enough for her to miss it would it die out. Now, it was a blaze, raging within, consuming all of her. She couldn’t put it out if she tried.

“You two were made for each other. I knew it the moment you saw him, could see it in your eyes. You were gone.”

They made attempts at escaping during their time on the ship, futile efforts that resulted in nothing more than reduced rations as a punishment. And so it was with growling stomachs and disheartened attitudes that they reached the Evil Queen’s palace. They were unceremoniously pulled from the brig, given a brief glimpse of the towering castle, and met the head of the queen’s guard - _“You’re a hard lass to find”_ – before being marched into the dungeons.

The hands on her arms were firm, but Emma struggled fruitlessly against her captors as they dragged her and her companions down dark hallway after dark hallway. Left, right, right, straight, left… it was impossible to keep track of their progress. With so many twists and turns, and the fact that everything looked the same, it wouldn’t do them much good to escape as they’d most likely just get lost trying to maneuver back through the passages. The one thing that Emma was able to tell was their constant downward slope. Wherever they were going, it was deep underground.

A few more turns and then, after making one last right, their destination was revealed; the corridor they’d been following opened up into a chamber that dead-ended in a row of cells that lined the wall in front of them. One lone sentry stood waiting, two cell doors unlocked and open. Out of one cell and into another.

They approached, but before they could be deposited in the waiting cell, the man by that had been waiting for them reached out, grabbed Emma’s arm, and pulled her away from her prior captors. Hot, rank, alcohol-laced breath washed over her face when he spoke.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” The words were accompanied by an unsettling leer. “Personally, I’m partial to blondes, but the queen was very specific when she said not to mess with the princess.” The man’s dark eyes shifted over her shoulder to Ruby. “But she didn’t say anything about the others.”

Graham’s voice echoed in the chamber as the man moved past Emma and reached for Ruby. “Don’t you dare touch her!” The exclamation continued to reverberate even as the man faced him.

“Oh, does this one belong to you?” The guard’s words were accompanied by an unsettling leer. He turned back to Ruby, reaching out to run the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Do you belong to him, gorgeous? I don’t see a ring, so he’s not your husband. A lover, then?”

Both Ruby and Graham’s jaws were tightly clenched; the tension in the air was palpable. One look at Hook’s expression confirmed the direness of the situation. Rape had never been a very big threat in Tortuga since most of the women were more than willing to bed a man; however, some men would fixate on a certain woman and refuse to settle for anyone else. The two barmaids had been fortunate enough to never be on the receiving end of such a situation, but they’d heard enough alarming stories to take precautionary measures. Here, though, there was little they could do.

“What do you think… maybe he’d like to watch? He could watch while we have some fun. He might enjoy it.”

The hand drifted lower, moving past Ruby’s collarbone towards the curves that were still apparent despite the shirt, vest, and cloak she wore. The brunette had always been feisty – her father called her a spitfire – and it showed when she spat in the guard’s face before the appendage could reach its destination. Her action successfully halted the man’s advances. A drop of saliva dripped from his nose, and he calmly wiped away the remaining spittle before his hand shot out without warning.

The crack was loud as the forceful slap turned Ruby’s head and pulled a startled cry from her. Instantly, Graham was in action. He struggled against the arms that restrained him with a fury; even August joined in, reaching forward to pull on the men that held the huntsman. There were too many guards to fight, but Graham managed to break free just long enough to connect his fist with the man’s face before being subdued once more.

“Son of a _bitch_!” Hands held up to his face, the guard stumbled back and glared through watering eyes. “Damn it! Fucking bastard broke my nose!” He strode forward to fist a hand in the front of Graham’s shirt. “Looks like you need to be taught some manners.”

Before anyone could react, the man had signaled to his companions and Emma found herself being shoved into the cell. Stumbling forward, her foot caught on a jagged piece of rock that sent her tumbling down to land in a puddle of water on the floor.

“Emma, are you ok?” Ruby knelt beside her.

“Yeah, but…” August and Hook stood in the adjoining cell. The two women followed their line of sight to watch as Graham was pulled around a corner and out of sight. His defiant yells continued until they were cut off by what sounded like a punch. Ruby ran to the front of the cell just as a new sound reached them.

It was horrible.

The cracking of a whip echoed in the dank dungeon, the sound of it curling around the cells until Emma could almost swear she felt the sting of it on her own back. Ruby stood, knuckles white with the force with which she gripped the bars of the cell.

 _Three_.

For the first few lashes, the crack was the only sound, but as it continued, they began to hear a muffled grunt. Her parents would never in their life condone such a despicable act, and Emma felt a flash of anger that evil such as this even existed in the world.

 _Seven_.

The muffled grunt began to give way to pained yells and curses emitted through gritted teeth. When Emma noticed that Ruby’s body was literally shaking, she stood and gathered her into a hug, hearing the quiet crying and feeling the hot tears soak into her shirt.

 _Eleven_.

The yells ceased, the lack of response from the huntsman almost more horrible than his cries of pain. Emma’s eyes found Hook’s in the other cell and her stomach clenched at the mix of anger, distress, and hopelessness she found there.

 _Fifteen_.

The last crack resonated in the deep silence that followed.

Ruby pulled away and returned to clutch at the bars, craning her head to try and get a glimpse of anything besides the rock walls that surrounded them. Metal clanked, followed by a thump that could only be the huntsman falling to the floor. A shaky breath forced its way out at the thought of his dead body, but she quickly pushed it away. She couldn’t afford to think like that.

A scraping sound filled the air. It grew louder, only punctuated by the sound of footsteps and Emma’s own heavy breathing, before the source finally turned the corner. Two guards had Graham by the arms and were dragging him back to the cell; the original instigator had disappeared. Ruby’s strangled shout filled the air at the sight, but the huntsman didn’t even twitch at the sound.

_He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead._

The words were repeated in her mind like a mantra as if trying to convince herself of their truth. The guards released his arms to unlock the cell, and he flopped to the ground, head smacking against the rock floor painfully, but remained motionless. One guard worked at the key while the other drew a sword, brandishing it at Hook and August who were forced to retreat to the back of the cell as the door finally opened and they pulled the motionless body into the space. He was dropped carelessly yet again and then the guards were gone.

Immediately, Hook and August rushed forward and rolled him over while Emma and Ruby stood powerlessly at the bars between the cells, unable to see anything more than the two men working. There was ripping as Hook tore through the few strips of fabric of Graham’s shirt that remained while August opened his eyes to check for dilated pupils and other signs of a concussion. Emma couldn’t see much, but when the men finally moved and she was able to get a clear view of the huntsman, she almost wished she hadn’t.

After spending over half of her life in the company of pirates, Emma was no stranger to violent injuries; the men that frequented the bar had often thought their various wounds would impress her – they didn’t – and had never failed to show her. She’d believed that those experiences would have given her a strong stomach, but the sight of Graham’s mutilated and torn flesh turned her stomach, the acid of it burning at the back of her throat and threatening to spill forth.

“Hook, can you clean him up?”

Still crouched over the motionless body, he didn’t even look up at her question. “My clothes are too dirty. If I try to clean his wounds, I’m more likely to give him an infection than help him.”

“Look at this place; it’s disgusting. He’s likely to get an infection either way.” Clear shock and anguish filled Ruby’s voice. Suddenly, Emma remembered her soaked shirt.

Water.

Turning to the far corner of the cell, she located the puddle she’d fallen in earlier and inspected the water. It was a decent amount, but what was more important was how it shimmered crystal clear in the dim light. There were no obvious contaminants. Emma traced the source back to a tiny fissure in the rock wall; if it was coming from some sort of underground spring, it would mean clean water.

Her focus was still on the liquid seeping from the wall as she called out to Hook and August. “There’s water over here; I can’t be sure, but I think it’s spring water. If you two can get Graham closer to our cell, we could use Ruby’s vest to clean him up.”

“We can’t move him.” Everyone turned to look at August.

“Sure thing, but then you’ll have to tend to him.” Which she knew neither of the men wanted to do.

Hook had a decent amount of experience in tending wounds but looked unwilling to take on the responsibility of the huntsman, and she knew for a fact that August didn’t have any experience at all. Having been responsible for the inn, he’d never taken part in the brawls and battles the pirates that frequented the establishment spoke of. The most he’d ever had to deal with was a broken nose he’d received in a bar fight.

“Do you have any idea how much it’ll hurt if we move him?”

August’s voice was harsh and filled with disdain, but Emma’s was even harsher. “Then I guess it’s a good thing he’s unconscious right now because he won’t feel a thing.”

The two glared at each other for a moment before Hook stepped forward until he stood almost in front of August and her eyes were drawn to his. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her, but she knew from the look in his eyes that he understood the severity of cleaning the huntsman’s wounds. He hadn’t survived as a pirate for over three hundred years without learning what it took to survive.

“Help me move him.” August remained motionless even as Hook knelt and took hold of a limp arm. “I can’t drag him over there by myself without doing more damage.” After another immobile moment, the pirate gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to her. “I thought you told me he would be helpful on this journey, Emma.” It was obvious what Hook was doing and she remained dutifully silent.

“Have I not been?” The already chilly temperature in the dungeon seemed to drop a few more degrees at the icy tone to the barkeeper’s question.

“Well, it seems to me you don’t quite have the stomach to do what needs to be done; like you’d prefer to leave him here to fall victim to infection than hurt him a bit even though the lass will help.” Emma could feel Hook’s eyes on her but she continued to stare resolutely at August. “Perhaps you should have stuck to your ledgers, mate.”

Hook’s words were taunting, goading; hurtful things meant to cut deep and spur the man into action. And it worked. August’s entire body seemed to twitch in anger before he strode over to grab the other arm. “Don’t imply that I would prefer him dead.”

Emma had spent more than half her life around August; she’d seen him glad and despairing, pleased and annoyed, proud and disappointed, and, on one rare occasion, lovesick. But she could honestly say she’d never seen him as furious as he was now. There was a disquieting glint in his eyes as the two men glared at each other for a moment before beginning to move Graham closer to the bars.

While the men worked at dragging the unconscious huntsman, Ruby ripped off her vest and handed it to Emma who dunked it in the shallow pool of water until it was thoroughly soaked. She rushed back to the group just as August and Hook positioned Graham beside the bars, his back now within reaching distance. Ruby had crouched down, her fingers touching lightly at her lover’s shoulder before snagging his limp hand.

“Ruby, do you want to?”

Emma motioned towards the wounds, but the brunette shook her head faintly, eyes trained on their clasped hands. “I don’t… not sure if I…”

“It’s okay.” It was cool in the dungeon, but nowhere near cold enough to be the sole cause of the trembling Emma could feel when she touched Ruby’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll do it.”

As Emma pressed the cloth to the flayed back in front of her, the two men straightened and stared each other down. August’s hands were clenched in fists and his body tense while Hook took on a more defensive stance even as he lifted his hands calmly. Even though she had been aware that the only reason for the pirate’s words was to force August to help, the man had taken them to heart.

“You’re a fucking bastard.”

Ruby’s voice was sharp. “Cut it out with your pissing contest, August. He only said that to get you to help so stop being an idiot and relax.” With a final, mumbled curse, August slumped against the far wall and glared into space.

Emma focused on Graham, cleaning away the blood, studiously pushing down the nausea that churned her stomach. Wipe, wipe, refold the vest. Wipe, wipe, refold the vest. As she worked, she tried to ignore the way the fabric occasionally pulled at the shredded skin. It was a good thing Graham was unconscious right now.

Ruby was muttering sweet reassurances, August was sulking in a corner, Hook was crouched down in front of her, Graham was bruised and beaten, and Emma was playing nurse. Nothing was right. None of this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to find her parents, break the curse, and… what, live happily ever after? That was a fairytale ending that wouldn’t pan out so long as Regina was alive.

It wasn’t fair.

But life wasn’t fair.

Her companions, her friends, didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of a decades-long feud that was neatly topped off with a curse. But here they were, trapped in a cell in the Evil Queen’s castle, all the same. Light glinted off the curve of the hook when it shifted. She didn’t need to look up to know Hook was watching her.

“I’m sorry.”

_For what August said. For being who I am. For dragging you into the mess that has become my life._

“Nothing to be sorry about, love. I’ve earned that title more than once in my life.”

But what about the rest?

Emma was still ministering to Graham when they began to hear the echoing sound of footsteps. They grew louder, coming ever closer until they stopped. And although Emma had never seen the woman before, not even a portrait, and her parents had never described what she looked like during their numerous stories, she knew who it was that stood before them.

Regina.

The Evil Queen.

As a child, it seemed rational to imagine a twisted, ugly sort of woman when hearing the term Evil Queen; after all, she was the villain. But Regina was anything but ugly. Tall, dark hair swept up and styled into an elaborate design, high-necked and form-fitting black dress accentuating her figure and trailing to the ground. She was actually quite beautiful.

Too bad Emma knew of the darkness that simmered beneath the façade.

Her dark eyes swept over the entire group, lingering on each in turn, before settling on Emma, and a smug and completely wicked grin crept over her face. Of course she would be cocky. With a curse between them and a life on the line, having Emma at her mercy was like being able to say ‘check’ in a game of chess.

“You know, I’d almost given up hope.”

“Well, I’m not dead yet.” The words were angry and defiant, said through gritted teeth as she glared at the woman.

Regina simply laughed in response. Perhaps Hook had been right in wanting to remain in Neverland. They hadn’t known the outcome of the curse, if it would still be able to reach her through the realms, but at least if she had died there, she would’ve taken the queen with her. In their current situation, the odds were stacked against her. Her show of defiance was all bravado.

“Those are awfully big words for someone trapped in my dungeon to be saying, but it’s inconsequential because I’m actually not talking to you.” Emma’s glare faltered for a second in her confusion. “I’m talking to him.”

Every eye in the room turned to follow the queen’s gaze and Emma felt her heart stammer.

“Oh, but didn’t he tell you? He’s been working for me this whole time.”

And her heart ceased its beating as it burst into countless pieces, tiny shards of glass that were as sharp as the betrayal she felt.

“Isn’t that right, Hook?”


	13. A Past Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where credit is due: I adapted a couple lines from The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater and from Tales From the House of the Moon by Resmiranda.

_“I, myself, am entirely made of flaws stitched together with good intentions.”_

* * *

As Killian Jones, he’d been a lieutenant and loyal supporter of the crown. With the sting of his father’s abandonment always behind him, he’d fixated on acts being right or wrong, black or white, good form or bad form. There was no gray, no in-between. He’d lived that way, following in his brother’s footsteps and advancing from a promising new recruit in the naval guard to lieutenant on the Jewel of the Realm, the most prized ship of the kingdom. The world was open to him, ready to be explored, and he eagerly did so at the behest of a king whom he supported and believed in.

As Captain Jones, he’d taken control of his future, become his own man. Turning from his original beliefs, he was no longer willing to follow orders on blind faith alone. The confidence the freedom brought was remarkable, and it showed as he became a womanizer, taking advantage of his good looks and perfecting his charm to the point where, if he truly wanted a woman, she’d willingly end up in his bed. He travelled the realm, plundering and marauding at will, until one day he met a woman who showed him that there was more to life than he thought. She brought a new light to his life, a new happiness.

As Captain Hook, he was consumed by his rage, his anguish, and his need for revenge. The crocodile had stolen one of the few good things in his life, and three hundred years meant nothing so long as he could avenge her death in the end. He bided his time in the land that never changes until he eventually learned of a dagger, the only thing capable of killing the Dark One. The search for the item led him to a strange palace, a dark queen, and a deal, but he was a desperate man that was willing to do whatever it took. But then he met someone else, and like the woman three hundred years before, she made him reconsider his life, his mission. She made him want to change. She made him want to be better.

So who was he now?

Killian Jones. Captain Jones. Captain Hook.

He hardly knew anymore.

* * *

The girl was worthless. All the rumors he’d heard after arriving back in the Enchanted Forest – she had been his captive, she knew things about him, she loved him – had made him seek her out, sure that she would let something slip if he could only gain her trust. He’d spouted off some ridiculous story of her father being in danger, which turned out to be completely unnecessary. How ironic that all of the rumors had been true, yet she still knew nothing of the dagger.

Useless.

She was quite beautiful – a waste, really – but had to die so he could cover his tracks. The girl’s life was spared, though, as his hook disappeared only to reappear in the hand of a woman standing at the cell door. Alluringly elegant and radiating self-assurance, she introduced herself as the queen and extended her congratulations for him having made it past her defenses before inviting him to join her for a drink. Not that he had much of a choice. In what appeared to be a quasi-depressing sort of sitting room, Regina cut right to the chase.

“I know all about you, Captain. The revenge you seek, the crocodile you wish to skin.”

The events of Killian’s past weren’t exactly common knowledge anymore, especially since they’d occurred three generations before the current time. How the queen knew of his history with the imp was a mystery to him, but he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was peaked. Throughout his life, few people had bested him, but this woman, with her magical abilities, had him quite literally at her mercy. There was little he could do to fend off magic should she choose to use it.

Clearly, Regina was a powerful opponent, one he would have to watch if he wished to stay alive.

“Then you have aged remarkably well, milady, since you would have to be very old indeed to know of my story.”

Her mouth tightened in an unamused smile as she poured wine into two goblets and offered one to him. “Let’s just say I have a bit of history with Rumplestiltskin.”

He nodded sagely. “Ah, lovers of days long passed.”

“Not that kind of history, Captain.” Regina took a sip of wine. “I have information that will help you kill the Dark One.”

A clever quip had been on the tip of his tongue, but her words stopped him cold as her previously secretive smile shifted into one slightly more tainted. It was too good to be true; had to be. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Many have tried to kill the imp and failed because of false information, and I have no desire to join their ranks so you’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word. Anyway, I already know what I need to find to kill him.”

“But do you know _where_ to find what you need?”

He stared her down as she took slow steps in his direction, sauntering and swaying her hips in a way that would entice any man. “Surely a woman of your considerable means knows that he can only be killed by a specific, and so far frustratingly elusive, dagger.” When only a couple feet remained between them, she stopped.

“It’s only elusive because I made it so.” Alright, he was well and truly interested. “A long time ago I made a deal with Rumplestiltskin when I happened to obtain his dagger. He agreed to leave me in peace so long as I agreed to hide the blade in a far off place where no one could ever acquire it, including myself.”

“The dagger has the power to control and kill him. Why would you give that up?”

“At the time, my magic wasn’t as powerful as it is now. I could never have bested him in a duel so I did the next best thing – made it to where he couldn’t interfere. I just needed him out of my way while I strengthened my magic and rose to power.” Her shoulders rose and fell in an elegantly casual shrug. “Plus, he’s far more useful to me alive than dead; much like the girl you were going to kill.”

Killian was inclined to disagree – the imp was far better dead than alive. Yes, dead; pierced by the fatal dagger and possibly Killian’s own hook just for good measure. What a wonderful sight it would be, one he’d imagined for many years.

“So you see, if you help me, I’ll tell you where to find the dagger and then you can go about fulfilling your revenge.”

That was a problem. “I may be a mere pirate, but even I know the stories of what happens to those who break deals with Rumplestiltskin. If he finds out that you’ve broken your agreement by telling me where to find the dagger, he’ll come after you.”

“So concerned for my safety…” His eyebrow cocked imperiously at her mocking tone. “No worries, Captain, that’s why I have Belle.”

So the imp was also in love with the girl. Interesting.

“What would you have me do?”

That tainted grin had returned. “I need you to find someone; a woman – a runaway – named Emma Swan. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, pretty; she’ll be roughly twenty-five now. I can’t give any better of a description as she hasn’t been seen in quite some time.”

“Where would she be?” He needed something to go on since half of the women he’d bedded in his life matched the generic characteristics Regina had given.

“She doesn’t want to be found. You’re a pirate; you should know better than anyone the seedy places that people on the run like to hide.” Which was true.

One last thing, though… “What business do you have with a runaway?”

“That is none of your concern.” The words were sharp, but Regina relaxed as she touched a fingertip to his chest, dragging the nail slowly and seductively down his torso. “Find her, Hook. Find her and bring her back to me and you’ll finally be able to skin your crocodile.” Her eyes met his boldly, victoriously. “Do we have a deal?”

One woman. That was all that stood now between him and Milah’s vengeance. Easy enough. His hook snagged the queen’s wrist as he leaned towards her.

“I believe so.”

* * *

Exactly one year, ten months, and twenty-three days later, he found Emma Swan working as a barmaid in a hole-in-the-wall inn and bar in Tortuga, although he didn’t know at first that he’d found her.

The inn’s tavern had been packed, clearly a popular place, and he’d had to wait in line at the bar, taking a moment to admire the leggy brunette that strutted around the room, before finally being able to order. That’s when he saw her. She was nothing overly spectacular, but there was something about her – the way she carried herself or the fierce, determined look in her eyes – that gave him pause.

Intrigued, he’d resorted to his tried and true method of flattery and charm only to quickly realize that she was unique among women. It was obvious she was attracted to him, but instead of submitting to his typically fail-safe charisma, she’d resisted him, opting instead to match him quip for quip. It had been most refreshing. And when she’d finally sat down with him later that evening and continued to play hard to get, he’d decided right then that he had to have her.

Killian Jones was nothing if not determined.

When the fight broke out, he’d had a sneaking suspicion of Regina’s involvement; the queen had been growing increasingly antsy during his search for the mysterious Emma Swan. Having frequented many a bar over the course of his life, he was no stranger to drunken brawls or even skirmishes between crews. But that one had been different. It was hard to put his finger on it, though. Something in the randomness of it or the unlikely coincidence that it spewed from the streets into that particular bar… or maybe it was just the gut feeling he had. Either way, he’d immediately ordered the lass to safety only to see her in the streets not long after looking like a damn imitation of Robin Hood as she shot arrow after arrow into an advancing group of pirates.

He’d been too busy gutting the men around him to take the time to truly admire the sight – her deadly focus and flawless marksmanship would surely have been a thing to behold – and by the time he had the chance to find her in the commotion once more, it was just in time to see the pirate approach her from behind. She would have been killed. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. He’d rushed forward to save her before his mind was even aware of his actions, but the stark surprise and relief in her eyes when she saw her rescuer made it well worth it.

When the fight cleared out, it took the exhilarating rush of adrenaline with it, and left him with only that burning anxious feeling as he’d stared at the woman he’d saved. All of the chaos had left her with wide eyes, shallow panting breaths, and flushed cheeks, but she’d assured him she was uninjured. In that moment, she’d been so beautiful. It was also in that moment that she revealed her name.

Emma Swan.

Fate was a funny thing.

Even now, Killian could remember how his heart had skipped a beat at hearing those two words. All he’d have to do was grab her; no one would have known in the aftermath of the battle. He just had to deliver her to Regina and then he’d have finally been free to exact his revenge. But he’d hesitated, choosing instead to give his name in return before returning to the Jolly Roger. The revelation had made for a sleepless night spent contemplating what to do, playing through the details over and over in his mind. He’d finally found the elusive Swan only to discover he didn’t want to give the fiery lass over to the Evil Queen.

So he’d left. Spouted off some bit about bad news coming up that he needed to handle – which was somewhat true considering he’d now have to lead Regina and her focus away from Tortuga – before pushing off. The queen turned out to be the one behind the attack, having received an anonymous tip that he’d insisted was false, and he’d directed her attention elsewhere, away from the port town.

Protecting Emma bothered him at first, and he’d attributed it to a passing infatuation, an obsession with the only woman who’d ever refused him. Over time, though, he reluctantly had to admit that it was more than that. He learned to brush aside the slight guilt he felt as he kept seeing her, teaching her, and spending time with her. And with each visit he could feel himself draw closer to her in a way that was more than mere attraction or desire.

In the end, he chose to keep silent.

In the end, he decided that his revenge could wait.

In the end, he chose Emma.

* * *

“You’re drunk.”

The air in the cabin was cold, but Emma’s hands were warm as they wandered across his chest. She was bloody perfect, everything about her, and he wanted her so bad. He unconsciously pulled at her hips, pressing her even more firmly against him.

“Who cares?”

The words seemed important; something pulling at the last few shreds of sanity that remained in the lust that had taken over his mind. But how important could whatever he was trying to think of be? Surely it wasn’t more important than the way their bodies were touching so intimately or the way her lips were trailing across his skin or the way her fingers just brushed him as she reached for the laces of his pants.

He simultaneously needed to get her out of those clothes and needed her fingers to stop shaking and work faster at his pants.

Her fingers…

_Her fingers._

His mind screeched to a halt – her fingers were shaking and suddenly the importance of her words made sense. Moving away from her in that moment was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

Her hands remained in the space he’d just vacated and she looked stunned at the sudden turn of events. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything was wrong because… “I’m absolutely sure I’ve never said this in my life, but I think we need to stop.”

“You don’t want this?” Eyes narrowed, voice disbelieving.

“On the contrary, love, I want this very badly.” His aching body offered more than enough physical proof of that. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in longer than I can remember. But I’m a gentleman. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a drunken lady.”

“For some reason, I find it hard to believe you’ve never had drunk sex before.”

Touché, lass.

Perhaps he could really only be considered a gentleman with Emma since he’d had many a drunken woman in his past. But still, if there was one thing Killian Jones understood very well, it was rationalizing sex with alcohol.

“While that is true, I don’t want that with you.” Her gaze softened somewhat as he reached for her hair, the silky locks slipping through his fingers. “When you decide to stop resisting me, resisting us, I want it to be a sober and willing decision. I want you to remember choosing me, I want you to remember wanting me to take you, and I want you to remember every detail of it the next morning.”

He’d have her; of that, he was sure. It might take a while longer without the numbing effects of alcohol flowing through her system, but she’d eventually give in. The frown remained on her face until he told her it was time for bed and picked her up. It was only a short distance to the sofa, but Emma did her best to wear him down. For the love of…

“You’re a constant test of my self-control, woman.”

“I don’t want self-control right now.” The way she all but purred the words had Killian thinking things along the lines of ‘bloody fucking hell’ and ‘why am I doing this again?’ and ‘it’s not too late to change your mind.’

But she settled down, dropping the air of seduction as she laid back and pressed her hand to her forehead. All the alcohol she’d consumed was clearly taking its toll; it would be a surprise if she didn’t have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

“I’m not going to remember this in the morning, am I?” She sounded so sad and forlorn.

“Most likely not, love. And even if you do, I’m sure you’ll deny it and go right back to resisting me.” She was the most stubborn and willful woman he’d ever met, but he had to admit that the game of denial she played certainly made things interesting.

He heard the faint hum as her eyes closed. “Only because you scare me.”

What? How absurd…

“And when have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?”

“Not scared _of_ you; scared of myself _with_ you.” Killian’s hand stilled its motion through her hair at her words. “I’m scared to let go.”

A drunken mind speaks a sober heart.

It would most likely be the only time he’d ever hear her admit her feelings for him. And he had no idea if she was still conscious, might already be asleep, but he had to say it…

“So am I… but you make me want to.”

* * *

Killian could remember a thousand little things from his life.

The way his father had sat with him on the beach when he was only a child and promised such big adventures, voyages to new and strange lands.

The way it felt when he woke up that autumn morning to find out his father had fled, abandoning him and his brother in a desperate attempt to escape the law.

The way his brother taught him to skip stones on the water and tie sailing knots, how he would tackle and roughhouse with him whenever the sting of their father’s desertion crept up.

The way it felt when he’d saved his brother’s life from that cursed and terrible plant only for him to die in his arms after returning from Neverland.

The way Milah’s eyes literally sparkled and shone when he taught her how to steer the Jolly Roger and navigate by the stars.

The way it felt as he watched that sparkling light fade from her eyes in death.

Every person experiences moments they _think_ they’ll remember for the rest of their life and moments they’ll _actually_ remember for the rest of their life, but it’s not often they turn out to be the same moment.

He expected to remember the feeling of Emma finally giving in to him, of the way his body burned at her touch, of the absolutely perfect way they moved together, of the sound of her voice as she told him she wanted him and breathed his name.

But he hadn’t expected to remember the way he felt so normal, so content, so utterly at peace as he’d looked down at her afterwards, wrapped in his arms.

He hadn’t expected it to feel so right.

* * *

“Have you given up on avenging her death?”

They stood at the helm, Killian maneuvering the Jolly Roger into the cove while Emma leaned against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. The question was quiet and unexpected since they rarely brought up those things that were most sensitive. Even still, he considered her words.

So much had changed in the years since he’d made that fateful arrangement with the Evil Queen. He had changed. But at the same time, he hadn’t.

“It’s not easy to give up on something you’ve held on to for so long.”

The sea lapped at the edges of the ship, the wind rustled the sails overhead, and the men chattered as they went about their tasks, but there was only silence between Emma and Killian until she spoke again in an almost conversational tone.

“You know, my father used to tell me that as long as you remembered someone, they weren’t really gone. I’m not sure that’s true, though. My grandmother died a long time ago. I still remember her, but I don’t really remember all of her. I remember what she looked like and the way she always smelled of peppermint… and sometimes I can still recall the way she laughed. But that’s not really her. She was made of a thousand other things that I’ve forgotten, things that made her who she really was. So, really, she _is_ gone.”

Killian remembered Milah.

He remembered her.

When he closed his eyes, he could see the way she’d looked when she came and asked him to take her away. He could remember her learning to steer the Jolly Roger and arguing with merchants when bartering for goods. But at the same time he couldn’t remember whether her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled or if her laugh sounded different when she’d had too much to drink or the way her body had fit against his. The details had slipped away over the years and it scared the hell out of him. He wasn’t supposed to forget…

“She wouldn’t want me to forget.”

“Are you sure?” It could have sounded sarcastic, could have easily come out in a condescending manner, but it didn’t. The breeze stirring Emma’s hair caught his eye, and Killian watched it swell and fall. “Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.”

It was a huge gamble to take, investing time and love into a person with only the hope that the time spent together would be worth it in the end.

But his mind vehemently argued that it had been worth it. That even though the time they’d had together was too short and the pain of losing her tightened his chest even now, he didn’t regret her. He could never regret her. Given the chance to go back, he would choose Milah over and over again, would relive her death a hundred times just to be able to experience the joy of those few years they’d had. With the memory of her running through his mind, the thought of letting a little more of her go instead of holding on to her so tightly caused an almost physical ache.

“Just remember that it won’t bring her back.” Emma’s eyes were soft, the normally striking hazel more of a dark, forest green as she stared at him. “When you kill Rumplestiltskin and you don’t feel better, don’t be surprised.”

In that moment, it seemed like the universe narrowed until they were the only two people in the world. “Why?”

“Because revenge isn’t a beginning – it’s an end.”

And for the first time, Killian began to truly consider whether or not he could give up on his quest for revenge for good, if he could let go of the past and move forward into a future that consisted of him and the woman that stood before him.

* * *

Tinkerbell had to work hard at restoring his memories, quite a bit harder than she had during his last stint in Neverland. Maybe he was just rusty and out of practice; maybe it was because this time his journey wasn’t shrouded in the darkness of his past. Whatever the reason, the return of his memories combined with the pixie’s news of Emma’s curse had brought a new and uncomfortable awareness to his past deal with Regina.

At the time, he hadn’t understood why the queen had wanted the girl; she’d explained that Emma Swan was a runaway but nothing more. Knowing what he knew now – that Emma was a princess, one that was tied to the Evil Queen; bound by a curse that would result in nothing short of death – changed everything.

They had little choice; their only real course of action was to travel back to the Enchanted Forest, which was dangerous in more ways than one. They would have to make their way back to Emma’s original homeland, to the kingdom of King Charming and Queen Snow. They would have to figure out the plan to break the curse that her parents had formulated in her infancy. They would have to complete the task all within their limited timeframe marked by Emma’s thirtieth birthday. And they would have to do all of it while dodging the Evil Queen who would no doubt have eyes everywhere.

It would have been all too easy to stay in Neverland, let the magic creep up and steal their past again, remain in the happy oblivion they’d created for themselves. They could have lived there forever. Could have, being the key word. Honestly, he had no understanding of the workings of magic, had no idea whether or not the curse would work across realms. It was hard to think of returning, knowing what they’d have to face, but it was even harder to think of losing Emma altogether.

So they’d returned.

And Killian Jones didn’t fear much, but he feared what was to come.

If Emma found out about his original deal with Regina, discovered how he fit into the scheme of things, he feared she’d never forgive him. Because despite the fact that he’d never fulfilled his end of the bargain with the queen, he’d never told her about the deal either. That, in itself, was a betrayal.

But he didn’t have time to fear because time was running out.

The clock was ticking.

_tick tock tick tock_

* * *

“You know, I’d almost given up hope.”

“Well, I’m not dead yet.”

Regina’s laugh was mocking, the kind where the person knew they’d won and victory was in clear sight, meant to smother any trace of optimism in the victim and inform them of just how little hope there was. But even though they were backed into a corner, trapped in the dungeon of the Evil Queen’s castle, Emma continued to fight.

Oh, Emma.

Beautiful, prideful, stubborn, resilient, willful Emma.

Ignorant Emma.

“Those are awfully big words for someone imprisoned in a cell in my castle to be saying, but it’s inconsequential because I’m actually not talking to you. I’m talking to him.”

He should have told her. _Gods_ , he should have told her when he had the chance because now it was too late. The heat of Emma’s gaze was burning into him, but he couldn’t look at her, could only glare back at Regina and the smug, triumphant smirk on her face. What he wouldn’t give to be free from the cell, to be able to stop what he knew was coming, to prevent what she was about to say.

“Oh, but didn’t he tell you? He’s been working for me this whole time. Isn’t that right, Hook?”

Killian couldn’t hold the glare any longer, his focus dropping to the floor in front of him as his whole body shook in a combination of rage, frustration, and dread. He wanted to look at Emma – needed to see her face – but his eyes remained trained on the rocks.

“Is that true?” The words were quiet, almost a whisper, but they seemed to reverberate in the room, the sting of treachery laced in them very nearly making him wince. “Were you working with Regina this whole time?”

And when he finally did look at her, he almost wished he hadn’t. She’d backed away from the bars to stand in the middle of the cell, arms wrapped tightly across her waist, with a look of complete and utter misery on her face. The light that normally filled her eyes was gone. Usually, they shone brightly, but now they were flat and cold as she stared at him, demanding answers. He’d spent years gaining her trust and breaking down her walls, had drawn her in and took pleasure in watching her slowly open up to him and eventually fall for him just as he fell for her. But all of their time spent together was for nothing because now they were broken. _She_ was broken.

And he’d been the one to break her.

“Not the whole time… but in the beginning…”

“Everything that’s happened… everything you’ve told me was a lie.” They were the words he’d been both expecting and dreading because nothing could be farther from the truth. It was all so wrong; everything was wrong. He moved forward to grip the bars between their cells, knuckles turning pale with the force, and opened his mouth to refute her statement when Regina cut in.

“You didn’t honestly think you meant something to him, did you? That he actually cared for you?” The words were like pouring salt in an open wound, unnecessary and spiteful. “Oh, you did. How sweet… and naïve.”

“Don’t listen to her, Emma! You know me; you know how I feel about you.” But really that was just speculation. Their relationship had been forged on witty banter, mutual attraction, and hundreds of little moments as they opened up to each other. But they’d never explicitly stated their feelings for each other, never laid it all out on the table, so to speak.

Killian knew what he felt for Emma, had struggled with the idea that he was simply replacing Milah during too many sleepless nights and over too many bottles of rum. But in the end, Emma had captivated him, made him throw his worries aside. Gods, he should have told her how he felt, and if they lived through this situation he’d never let a day go by without telling her…

“Hook was looking for you for years, trying to find you for no other reason than to bring you back here and trade you for a way to kill Rumplestiltskin. He’s a pirate, sweetheart. You were nothing more than a means to an end.”

“That’s not true!”

“A bargaining chip.”

“Don’t believe her!”

“Just a simple trade.”

“STOP!”

They all fell silent in the aftermath of Emma’s outburst. Her hands were clenched by her side and her whole body trembled with the weight of the situation. There was an animal – a snarling, clawing, raging thing – trapped in his chest that wanted nothing more than to destroy the woman that drew such enjoyment from emotionally torturing the princess. Still, he wasn’t sure if Emma would appreciate the gesture right now anyway because if looks could kill…

“You betrayed me. You lied to me. You used me.”

Each word was enunciated with an inflection sharp enough to make him wince, but it was the shimmering he could see in her eyes that cut deeper than anything.

“No.”

And her voice was scathing, biting, when she replied. “ _No?_ ”

“I can’t deny I betrayed you, but I made that deal long before I ever knew you.” He shook his head morosely. “I’ve never admitted to being a good man, but you have to know… Emma, I never lied to you. Everything I told you, everything I’ve ever said to you, was the truth.”

“Except everything that you _didn’t_ tell me!”

“I know I should have told you…”

“I trusted you… but you played me, Hook. Well done. All of it… gods, none of it mattered and I... _fuck_ , I can’t believe I trusted you!”

“Please, Emma. I…”

“Don’t!” Her eyes were dark and her breaths heavy. “Just don’t.”

The punch wasn’t altogether unexpected. He heard the angry curse moments before the fist connected with his temple. Killian was strong and more than capable of taking a blow, but the sheer force coupled with the fury behind the punch was enough to knock him to his knees and cause his vision to black out for a moment. When it cleared, he saw two of the guards fighting to hold back August who was still trying to lunge towards him looking like he wanted nothing more than to kill him. Killian almost wished he would.

“You really are a fucking bastard.” The man spat the words.

Yes. Yes, he was.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Guards, bring him.”

Strong hands clamped down on his shoulders and arms, pulling him from the cell; his feet were dragging the floor and he was halfway down the hallway before he even registered what was happening. Once he collected himself, though, he fought back with a vengeance. He punched and kicked and elbowed, taking advantage of every opening whether it be a cheap shot or not – he was a pirate, after all. Regina could have used her magic to end the struggle immediately, but she let it play out, allowing him to fight the guards for a moment before reaching out and immobilizing him with an enchantment.

“Will you stop accosting my guards, Hook? There’s really no point to it.”

The men had all stepped back once he’d gone still and appeared to be recovering from his sudden and violent struggle. “What are you doing?” Killian could do nothing but watch as the queen stepped closer to him.

“I’m honoring our arrangement. We agreed the girl for information on the dagger; you’ve delivered on your end, even if it was reluctantly, so I’ll uphold my end as well. But you can’t stay here if you expect to retrieve the dagger.”

“I won’t leave her.”

“You don’t have a choice, Hook.” Regina’s eyes moved to a point over his shoulder and then the guards had returned, an arm reaching around his neck and locking him in a chokehold.

“Just…” He choked the words out around the arm that was squeezing against his throat. “… let me say something.”

As he struggled, he noticed Emma’s lip curl up in contemptuousness. “There’s nothing more I want to hear from…”

“When did I save you?”

The arm around his neck loosened somewhat, giving him the chance to face Emma fully. The look of disdain hadn’t left her face but confusion had joined it, pulling her brows down into a perplexed expression. “What?”

“That night in Tortuga, the first night we met – when did I save you?”

The wheels were turning as she tried to figure out the meaning in his question. “Hook, what the hell are you talking about?!”

Straining against the arms that held him, Killian leaned towards her, wanting to be as close to her as possible as he tried to get through to her. “During the fight, you escaped onto the street. The pirate that came up behind you would’ve killed you, but I saved your life.”

“And your point is?”

“You say that none of it mattered, that it wasn’t real, but you didn’t tell me your name until after the fight was over.” It was his checkmate. “I saved you before I even knew who you were.”

She said nothing as her eyes shifted back and forth between his own. He held her gaze, willing her to believe him.

“Emma…” Ruby’s voice was a warning.

“A trick…you must have known me. You were just trying to get me to trust you.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, love… no tricks. I didn’t know who you were. I saved you for no other reason than because I wanted to. There were countless times I could have brought you to Regina, but I didn’t. I saved you from that assassin. I never used you, I protected you.”

And he saw it. It was quick – a flash of doubt that cut through the scorn in her eyes – and gone before he could blink, but there was no mistaking it. Her walls slammed down, shutting him out once more, and he knew that was his one token of hope. And he’d hold on to that look, that flash of doubt, because it meant that some part of her still believed him, believed _in_ him.

The guards pulled him away then, leading him back through the labyrinth of passages and hallways until they stood at the main entrance to the palace. Regina had followed them and now stood before him as the guards backed away. She still wore the same maliciously cruel grin that she’d sported since first laying eyes on Emma in the dungeon.

“I really was beginning to give up hope. There are only twenty-seven days now before her thirtieth birthday, but now that she’s safely within my grasp, I have nothing to fear.”

“What will you do with her?”

“Kill her, of course.” As if he was a fool for even asking. He thought of when Tinkerbell had explained how Emma’s parents had never considered the possibility of killing Regina, choosing instead to focus on a way to peacefully break the curse and spare everyone’s lives. The stark line between what made someone a hero or a villain had never been more apparent. “It has to be done right, though. With flair.”

He didn’t want to know what killing a person with flair meant to someone like Regina.

“Here.” Killian caught the tossed items. “Those cuffs will allow you and four others to climb the last remaining beanstalk in the Enchanted Forest. If you manage to make the climb and get past the giant at the top, you’ll find the dagger you seek.”

* * *

Killian Jones liked to think he was a relatively straightforward man.

Or at least that’s what he’d decided after three hundred years of getting to know himself.

He was the type of man that would do whatever it took to ensure his own survival. He’d killed before and pillaged before, had plundered both ports and ships, had been willing to wait centuries for a chance at revenge. It was clear the type of person he was – a pirate.

But as the Evil Queen and her guards disappeared back inside the castle and the doors slammed closed with Emma still trapped inside, he began to formulate a plan; one that disregarded and contradicted everything he’d ever thought he’d known about himself.

It was a fascinating thing to realize that, even after three hundred years, he still had the ability to surprise himself.


	14. A Broken Heart and A Stolen Heart

_“The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me.”_

* * *

Her mind wheeled and spun, her thoughts scattered amongst the stars overhead. Every coherent thought she might have had twinkled just out of reach, leaving only an empty black hole in her mind that made it impossible to digest what was happening. His mouth moved, but he wasn’t talking. Or she wasn’t listening.

Or maybe she was just imagining everything because this wasn’t how things were supposed to go, were they?

“I just can’t be tied down to one place…”

The words sounded distant and muffled, like he was standing a hundred feet away instead of only five. Her heart pounded, blood rushing through her ears to further hinder the sound of him speaking. When his mouth stopped moving, she looked away to the swaying grass that lined the dunes where the beach began.

Why?

The question had only been in her mind, but then he was talking again so she must have spoken aloud.

“It never would have worked out…”

Rejection sat heavy on her shoulders, pressing her down until she wished the ground would open and just swallow her. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Ruby had begun to take part in more carnal activities a couple years back, but Emma had waited. A combination of feelings held her back… sheer nervousness, remnants of her royal upbringing, and a bit of romanticism that wanted to wait for her very own Prince Charming – although the likelihood of a Prince Charming showing up in Tortuga was far-fetched.

She’d been nineteen when he’d first stepped foot in The Salty Dog Inn. Disheveled hair, quirky smile, and a shared desire of adventure had brought them together that evening. And it turned out to be a whirlwind romance. He’d been her first. Shy and messy and awkward, she’d given everything to him. Actually, she’d given more than everything, and that was the problem.

Emma focused on him – on Baelfire. His eyes so normally wrinkled in a smile or laugh were turned down along with the corners of his mouth, his hands worried themselves, clenching and unclenching in front of his body, and he shifted back and forth, redistributing his weight from foot to foot. The wind gusted to ruffle his hair. It stuck up in the back, but she didn’t reach up to smooth it down as she normally would have.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?”

But they both knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. And damn, it hurt… everything hurt. Her eyes stung with salty tears, her nose burned with the restrained sniffles, her neck smarted with the tension running through it, and her heart ached with loss.

Ruby had told her. The barmaid had told her, but Emma hadn’t listened.

_“If you ever go with any of these guys, keep it casual. It’s just sex. You can give them your body but nothing else. Because if you do… trust me, they’ll only break it.”_

She should have listened.

* * *

As a child, Emma’s parents had told her many stories. Tales of adventure and battles and fighting and good always winning. Tales of romance and conquests and love conquering all. There was always a hero and a villain and a damsel in distress; there was always a quest and a battle and a struggle and a victory.

This was just another fairytale.

Her life was just another story.

But it was so much more than that because stories don’t mention arranged marriages or lecherous men. They don’t mention sore muscles or missing hands or being afraid. They don’t mention three hundred years of waiting or being forced to live as a werewolf. In stories, people don’t cry or scream when they get hurt, their flesh never gapes open in oozing strips from a cat-o'-nine-tails, they don’t go pale and cold and faint with shock. In stories, the hero doesn’t wake up from nightmares, doesn’t drink away the pain, doesn’t try and fail anyway.

But then, those people weren’t real, only characters in a story.

And trapped in a dank dungeon with a frightened barmaid, an injured huntsman, a fuming inn manager, and a gaping hole in her heart where a pirate used to be, Emma desperately wished that they could just be characters and for this not to be real. Because if they were characters in a story, things might work out… if she were just a character, she might get things right for once.

She was supposed to be brave and strong, a leader, a princess, honorable and compassionate, someone without fear or doubt or sadness. But that was never how she’d been. She was clumsy sometimes, got scared, hurt people, could be stubborn and prideful, and the only thing she’d ever really been good at was fighting for what she believed in but even that had caused pain to the people she loved when she ran away.

Not much of a fairytale heroine.

And so she wasn’t a character, she was just her. Emma Swan. Princess, barmaid, almost-pirate. Daughter, friend, lover. Reliably loyal, unbearably willful, and painfully mortal.

“I just can’t believe it.”

Ruby’s arms were wrapped in a firm hug, her hand pressing to the back of Emma’s head to hold it against her shoulder. Fingers stroked through her hair in a familiar way, but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t large enough to be his; they weren’t calloused enough to be his.

“He seemed so genuine, so different. And I could’ve sworn… I mean, when he was around you…” Hair tickled against her nose as Ruby shook her head slightly. “The gods know I can be a poor judge of character, but I really thought what you two had was real.”

“He’s a pirate. You can’t place too much faith in a man that’s willing to live that kind of life.”

Almost a full day had passed since Regina had exposed Hook and thrown him out of the palace, but August’s voice still held just as much disgust as it had when his fist had connected with the pirate’s head after having discovered his deal with the queen. Emma had been staring unseeing at the fabric of Ruby’s cloak but looked up at his words. She could just make out his face along with the frown that pulled at his brow through the partial shield that Ruby’s hair created.

At first, she had been a mirror image of his fury, had remained that way for a while after Hook had left. She’d allowed her anger to smolder and burn deep in her belly, but as the hours passed, it had fizzled out. The fire had scorched away every feeling and emotion until only burned ashes remained. All of her memories of Hook, all the time they’d spent together over the past few years, tasted bitter now.

August was right… Hook was a pirate.

She should have known better than to trust him. Hadn’t she spent the better part of two years coming up with reasons to convince herself why it was better not to give in to him? But that was the problem – the fact that she had to come up with reasons to resist him meant that she’d been in trouble from the very beginning. And in the end, he’d torn down her walls. All of her excuses were rendered null and void, and her defenses were well and truly breached.

Ruby had been spot on when she’d said how Emma had been gone from the start. It just took her a while to realize it and even longer to really embrace it.

Looking back to the ground, Emma pulled away from the embrace to sit on the floor. Pulling her legs up, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. The cold seeped through her clothes, leaving her slightly chilled, but the feeling seemed to match her mood much better than Ruby’s warm, comforting arms. Red fabric swirled through her peripheral vision as the barmaid moved to sit a few feet away, giving Emma the space she wanted.

During that same midnight conversation, Emma had likened her and Hook’s relationship to a blaze. In the months after finally giving in to him, it had grown into something that raged within her. With a mind all its own, it consumed her entire being with its heat and intensity. She’d believed it to be something she couldn’t put out if she tried.

It was amazing how effective the ice-cold splash of reality could be.

“But he did so much for her.” And Emma wondered when Ruby had become such a romantic.

Hook _had_ done a lot for her, there was no denying it. Her mind insisted that every moment had only been part of the larger plan. But her heart kept bringing up those last few moments before he’d left. The last thing he’d said… it hadn’t made sense. Or rather, it had, in a shocking way that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

_The guard had his arm looped around Hook’s neck. It was pulled so tight that Emma could hear the rough rasp as he tried to speak. She continued to glare at him, trying to ignore the pleading look in his eyes. Even now, with the sting of betrayal eating at her, she had to fight the hint of concern she felt as his face began to flush from the lack of oxygen. She mentally berated herself for feeling anything for him. He didn’t deserve her concern or her pity._

_“When did I save you?”_

_Caught up in the internal battle between her head and her heart, the question caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting him to speak, much less ask something so vague. “What?” There were many times he’d saved her over the years. Now wasn’t the best time to be requesting a play by play of his heroics._

_“That night in Tortuga, the first night we met – when did I save you?”_

_Emma frowned. After all these years, she could still remember the escalated violence of that night. The yelling, the acrid smell of smoke and blood, the way her heart had pounded. She’d rushed out into the street with Ruby, and he’d saved her from the pirate that had snuck up on her from behind. If not for him, the blow would’ve surely killed her. He was trying to make a point, but she didn’t understand it._

_“Hook, what the hell are you talking about?!”_

_He pulled against the arms that held him, pressing towards her, and she unconsciously took a step back. “During the fight, you escaped onto the street. The pirate that came up behind you would’ve killed you, but I saved your life.”_

_Her eyebrow cocked. “And your point is?” She would remain resolute. She wouldn’t give in._

_“You say that none of it mattered, that it wasn’t real, but you didn’t tell me your name until after the fight was over.” Her glare faltered. “I saved you before I even knew who you were.”_

_The floor shifted beneath her. Or maybe that was just her entire world shifting since no one else seemed to be reeling the same way she was. Hook’s eyes bored into hers, the only steady thing in the room. He was right… she hadn’t told him her name until after the fight was over._

_“Emma…”_

_Ruby’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she refocused on Hook once again, trying to apply some logic to the situation. “A trick…you must have known me. You were just trying to get me to trust you.” But he just shook his head at her words._

_“No, love… no tricks. I didn’t know who you were. I saved you for no other reason than because I wanted to. There were countless times I could have brought you to Regina, but I didn’t. I saved you from that assassin. I never used you, I protected you.”_

Those last few words jangled in her head even now. Ruby and August continued to discuss the greater and lesser points of the pirate, but Emma sat on the floor, thinking through the simple phrase as well as its greater implication.

Hook could have let her die that first night. It would have been easy. Through no real fault of his own, just a lack of action, the man’s blade would have dealt her a fatal blow. Emma would have been labeled a casualty of the fight, Regina would have lived through the curse, and Hook would have received the information to aid on his quest for revenge. A win-win scenario for everyone except her.

But he’d saved her life.

More than once.

That night had been the first time, but there were also numerous times he’d come to her rescue in Neverland. Not to mention the fact that he’d sacrificed a lot to save her from the cursed dagger. He’d used the small amount of pixie dust he owned to stall her death and then rushed to Neverland with no plan of escape to save her life. That alone would have been enough, but there was more… if it wasn’t simply a ploy to earn her trust, aligning himself with her would’ve branded him an enemy of the queen and placed a bounty on his head.

Maybe she was selfish. She’d never done anything more than just go with the flow ever since they’d met – See each other again? Absolutely. Practice swordplay together? Sounds good. Travel to Neverland? Let’s go. – while he’d made most of the plans. Now, after all their time together, it took a situation like this to make her realize just how much he’d risked to help her over the years. And perhaps she’d been too quick to judge.

Had her trust in him been misplaced? Had she made a mistake in believing a pirate could be different? He could have captured and delivered her to Regina numerous times over the years. He could have killed her even more times. But he hadn’t. Just like he’d said, he’d protected her.

Her heart ached when that feeling of trust tried to well up again, but it was doused just as quickly when her mind reiterated the problem that still remained – he hadn’t told her. If he truly had no intentions of going through with his end of the deal with the queen… if he really had chosen to protect her over fulfilling his revenge… why wouldn’t he tell her? She’d gone through the past year believing there to be no secrets between them; Hook had even said the same thing. But all the while, his prior deal with the queen had been in the background.

“Did you even see his face or were you too busy imagining what it would feel like to punch it again?” Emma didn’t need to look at Ruby to know there was likely a sneer on her face as she continued to argue with August. “He was devastated by this. He probably hoped for the deal he’d made to never come up again.”

And the longer Emma thought about it, the more everything began to click into place. Yes, he’d made the deal with the queen before he’d ever met her. Yes, he’d abandoned that deal to protect her. Yes, he’d most likely kept the deal to himself in the hopes it would never come to light. Yes, he’d most likely believed his actions to be the best at the time. No, it didn’t make any of it right – because yes, he should have told her – but his betrayal was not as harsh as she’d originally imagined.

“If he wasn’t going to turn her in, he should have just left her alone; disappeared on his ship and never came back.”

How her life would have been different without the mischievous pirate…

She would have remained in the bar, may or may not have ever experienced an encounter with Regina or her lackeys, might not have ever figured out the truth of the curse until it was too late. She would have never experienced sailing through a land that doesn’t age, might have never seen mermaids or Indians or flying lost boys, never known what it felt like to fly through a sea of stars. She would have never known what it felt like to truly give her body, mind, and soul to another person.

The heels of her hands pushed and rubbed at her eyes until bursts of color started to appear. Everything was just so damned confusing. Her mother had always said a person was supposed to forgive and forget, but it wasn’t that simple. A part of her could forgive his actions because she understood the motivations behind them and knew how he’d tried to remedy them even after things were already set too far into motion to be stopped. Another part of her didn’t want to forgive what he’d done because he could have done more. But no matter whether she forgave him or not, she doubted she could ever forget. The trust they’d developed over the years was broken, and she wasn’t sure they could ever get that back.

A small voice insisted that even if they could, she didn’t want it anymore.

An even smaller voice insisted that she did.

“Graham!”

Ruby’s voice brought reality crashing back in. Along with the exclamation came an agony-filled groan as the huntsman woke up. Immediately, Emma was at the cell bars with Ruby, watching as August carefully reached forward to clasp Graham’s forearms when he tried to sit up.

“Don’t move or you’ll make it hurt worse.”

Tension flooded his body, made his muscles ripple as his back bowed under the pain. Ruby twined her fingers through his, and at her touch, he turned his head to face her. “I don’t know if it’s possible for it to hurt worse than this.” His teeth were bared in a grimace as a wave of pain hit him. “Is this what hell feels like?”

No one knew quite what to say. Holding his hand in both of hers, Ruby simply rubbed her thumb across the tendons that jutted out from the strain with which he gripped hers. He’d only been awake for about ten minutes, but the longer he was awake, the more pain his mind registered. Gradually, his breathing quickened into panted gasps, his eyes screwed tightly shut, he broke out in a sheen of sweat, and his skin turned sallow. All telltale signs that he was about to pass out. For a brief moment, Graham opened his eyes and stared at Ruby, then they rolled back and he relaxed back into unconsciousness.

Ruby let out a quiet, strangled sound at his collapse, and Emma rearranged his head to a more comfortable position before both she and August retreated to give Ruby space, pretending not to notice as she discreetly wiped at her eyes. Sneaking a glance at Graham, Emma took in the state of his back, the inflamed and weeping wounds. He needed medical attention. Badly.

The hours continued to pass, the early afternoon shifting into evening, and it was late when the queen arrived. They’d all expected her to leave them to wallow in their unfortunate and hopeless circumstances while she rejoiced in her palace tower, so her appearance was unanticipated. She arrived much the same as she had the day before, the sound of heels clicking through the passageways announcing her existence long before she came into view.

“You grace us with your presence so soon again? Here to gloat?” Emma’s words dripped with sarcasm and disdain, but the queen barely spared her a glance.

“So tough in the face of certain death… how brave you must think you are. I’ve often noticed that those that are most brave are often the most self-centered, as well.” Regina’s eyes flicked to hers for a second. “And you, my dear, are no exception.”

Indignation rose hard and fast in Emma. “I’m not…” But she was quickly cut off.

“Then what is it called when you think that all I do revolves around you? You believe I’m always speaking to you, you believe I’m only here to gloat over you. Allow me to burst that little bubble of yours.” Regina moved closer to the cells, her eyes lighting on each person in turn before settling back on Emma. “I didn’t show up yesterday for you, I came for the captain. And I didn’t come here today for you, I came for myself. Yesterday I noticed something that… perturbed me.”

No one spoke after her declaration. Emma’s tongue was caught between her teeth to prevent her from saying anything else, so she settled for her very best glare. But the queen wasn’t fazed. Cocking a solitary eyebrow, she gave a dismissive look before focusing on Graham. The silence stretched out, only broken when Regina turned away from the huntsman to look at the guard.

“What is this?” She waved her hand in the general direction of the wounded man. Slightly pursed lips were the only sign of her annoyance and the possibility of a dangerous situation.

“He attacked me, Your Highness. Broke my nose.”

The queen was like a cat as she turned her back to the guard and stalked a few steps around the edge of the room. “And why would he attack you, might I ask? I believe you had plenty of guards around to subdue him.”

“He was angry. We were just going to have a bit of fun with the other girl…” He trailed off when she turned back to him sharply.

“So he came after you when you tried to accost the woman.” He swallowed thickly, and Emma could see the motion of it across his throat as he nodded. “And you saw it fit to flog him for your own idiotic actions?”

Regina’s hand shot out, her fingers like claws as they curled into the open air. Immediately, there was a strangled shout from across the room. Emma turned to see the guard in a most peculiar position. He remained standing, but his back was slightly arched, feet touching but not quite resting properly on the ground. His eyes bugged as his hands grasped for something unseen around his neck. They were forced to watch as Regina advanced, her movements once again turning feline-like; a predator eager for blood.

“Did I say you could touch my prisoners?”

The sickeningly sweet smile only seemed to enhance the evil within.

“Did I say you could harm any of them?”

The guard now dangled a few inches off the ground, barely able to emit even the softest gurgle, but Regina lessened her stranglehold just enough for his words to slip out. “You only said… not to touch… the princess.” And anyone with a brain would’ve known that to be the wrong answer.

Regina’s smile darkened before it settled somewhere between a smirk and a glower. He seemed to realize his mistake at the change in her countenance, but his vain struggles were too late. With a flick of her wrist, the man’s head flew back, and Ruby’s startled gasp did little to muffle the sharp crack as his spine broke.

Emma’s teeth ached with how hard her jaw clenched as she watched the guard’s body collapse to the ground in an undignified heap. His head remained set at the unnatural angle even after he’d fallen, arched so far the crown of it almost touched his back. Legs and arms were askew, mouth gaped open, brows permanently drawn together… but his eyes were what Emma couldn’t look away from. They were wide and glazed over in death, unseeing, but they still held a trace of the horror he must have felt during those last fateful moments.

She felt drawn into the depths of them, her vision tunneling until they literally consumed her sight. If Graham hadn’t stepped forward and become a distraction, the guard might have gone through with the despicable act he had planned for Ruby, but did that mean that he deserved to die? Part of her screamed yes because he wasn’t a good man; part of her whispered who was she to judge life or death for another person.

Being stunned into silence was becoming a thing for Emma and her friends. They stood there, focus shifting between the dead guard and the Evil Queen, while Regina gazed at Graham, hand at her chin and finger draped across her lips in thought.

She seemed to consider the situation before murmuring to herself. “I might have use of you yet.”

Emma had barely heard the words when August was thrown back against the rock wall and held there while the queen stretched out her other hand towards Graham. Slowly, a mist poured from the tips of her fingers, fell to the ground, and crept towards the motionless huntsman. It wasn’t until the substance began to envelop his boots that Ruby finally released his hand and pulled back from the bars to stand with Emma. Within seconds, they could no longer make out Graham’s form.

It was startling to see the huntsman consumed by the cloud of gray-green tinted smoke, but with a set of iron bars between them, there was little the two women could do. August, too, seemed to be incapacitated, held motionless by Regina’s magic. The smoke curled in on itself repeatedly for a few moments until it finally began to shrink. As it cleared, Emma watched it seep into the gashes on Graham’s back, and when the last of it slipped through the wounds, the skin drew closed and seamlessly knit itself back together. Nothing remained except a smooth, unmarred expanse of skin; all signs of the flogging were gone.

“There. Now no one can say I am _completely_ evil.”

“Why?” Ruby had apparently recovered from the shock quicker than Emma, speaking the question on all of their minds while Emma still gaped silently at Graham. “Why would you help him?”

“I could always use another pawn, especially one as potentially useful as him.” Her words caused Ruby’s fingers to tighten like a vice around Emma’s arm. When an unpleasant chuckle cut through the air, Emma finally turned to look at Regina. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill your lover. Not yet, anyway. I’m only taking his heart to ensure his cooperation.”

Take… his heart?

But before either of the women could do anything, the cell door flew open and Regina was leaning over Graham. With the help of her magic, he rolled onto his now-healed back. Then, he was arching said back with a grimace as she plunged her hand deep into his chest. The whole process couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but time seemed to stop when the queen removed her hand along with Graham’s heart. Emma and Ruby looked on in horror at the organ that glowed and pulsed in her hand.

“Now get up.” It was an order to Graham who immediately scrambled to his feet as if he hadn’t been flogged within an inch of his life or had a hand buried in his chest.

He seemed dazed at first, glancing down at his body and running a trembling hand over his clothes before looking to the two women in the nearby cell. “Ruby…” And he took a step forward, reaching out towards the barmaid, only to draw his hand back to press against the area his heart had previously resided with a moan.

“Not so fast, lover boy.” It was then that Emma noticed the way Regina was applying pressure to the glowing heart held fast in her hand. “People are far easier to control when you’re holding their very life in your hands.”

Emma’s teeth clenched painfully. The queen had healed Graham’s wounds – likely, saving his life – only to turn him into a slave forced to do her bidding. The very air in the dungeon seemed to be tinted red with the force of her anger. Regina, however, seemed unaware of the fury coursing through Emma’s body; either that, or she just didn’t care. She motioned to the guards that had entered unnoticed. They moved quickly, coming to the cells and placing shackles around Emma,

Ruby, and August’s hands and feet. None of them bothered to restrain Graham. Under the influence of Regina, he willingly went to stand beside her, even looked like that’s where he wanted to be.

“Now I think it’s time we go on a little road trip.”

And then they were marched from the dungeons.

Crammed inside a rattling, jolting, filthy, not very comfortable, entirely too tiny, reinforced prison carriage with two other individuals and only one tiny, barred window was slightly claustrophobic. That is, if by slightly, one really meant extremely. The only relief Emma drew was from the window in the rear door where she was able to observe their progress.

Based on their rapid pace, the horses drawing the carriages had been enchanted. The landscape flew by, barren land shifting into grasslands that flowed into fields that grew into forests. And as they travelled, she began to notice familiarities. A lake rumored to have magical restorative properties that she had visited on a type of educational field trip with Jiminy Cricket. A marked, wooded path that led to excellent hunting ground she had traversed with her father. A glimpse of a sparkling sea that she knew brushed up to the kingdom’s harbor. The signs grew clearer and more apparent the longer they travelled – they were headed back to King Charming and Queen Snow’s kingdom.

She was going home.

They travelled through the night, arriving at the edge of town mid-morning. Entrance to the city was simple. Ever since the Evil Queen’s defeat, the townspeople had grown lax and easygoing, open to any and all visitors. However, it was unlikely they’d completely forgotten their time under Regina’s rule, so when they passed the town wall unhindered, Emma suspected a spell to disguise the queen’s appearance must be at work.

They continued, passing through the streets until they came to a stop at the palace. A few royal guards moved forward and out of Emma’s sight. The thick carriage walls muffled what was being said, but it was obvious that all of the queen’s pretenses were abandoned when the guards came back into view moments later, flying through the air to crash, unmoving, to the ground. Then the door was wrenched open and Graham drug Emma out to stand before a beggar woman whose appearance slowly melted to that of Regina.

“Let’s go visit your parents, shall we?” Then with a sharp glance to Graham, she gave him a single order before they moved out. “Guard the other prisoners.”

They moved unrestrained through the castle. The palace staff scrambled out of their way, a few of them throwing recognizing looks over their shoulders at the sight of the woman who resembled the long lost princess, and the few guards they happened across were quickly dispatched. They didn’t stop until they reached a large set of closed doors. Emma knew where they led – the throne room. As royal leaders, her parents had decided to set aside a weekly time to hear from the people they ruled. She had no idea what day it was anymore, but if Regina had brought them here, then this is where her parents must be.

Regina’s head inclined as she scanned the great doors. Then she turned to face Emma. A couple guards grasped Emma’s still-shackled arms as the queen placed a fingertip to her forehead. “What are you…” But her question ceased as a tingling sensation spread from the point on her head to flow through her entire body. And when the finger was removed and she was finally able to look down, she saw nothing. Not her clothes, not her body… nothing. She was invisible. Mute, as well, when none of her words came out.

Regina smiled once again before turning, the doors blowing open with a wave of her hand. Immediately, the figures seated at the far end of the room stood to attention.

“Regina.”

And despite having not heard her mother’s voice in almost eighteen years, it sounded exactly the same as she remembered. Smooth elegance, clear pronunciation, ringing quality. The only difference was the slightly hardened edge that spoke of years of both anguish and anger. It couldn’t have been easy for her mother to go through losing her only daughter, especially knowing the type of danger she was in.

“It’s been quite a while… almost thirty years now, right?” Regina’s voice practically dripped with gleeful venom. The numerical reference was a nasty reminder of the time – or lack thereof – that remained before the curse’s fulfillment.

“Not long enough.”

“Actually, I’d have to disagree; thirty years is far too long. I have no desire to continue our little encounters. They’re something that should have ended long ago.”

Emma was brought to a stop, neither of her parents aware that the guards accompanying Regina were actually holding her captive. Her heart clenched painfully as she finally got a clear view of her parents. They looked very much the same, yet different at the same time. They’d both aged gracefully, but there were a few streaks of grey in her mother’s dark hair and tiny lines edged the corners of her father’s eyes and mouth.

“Why are you here, Regina?” Her father’s deep voice caused her stomach to twist in knots. “You know as well as we do that she’s not here. If she were, you wouldn’t have waited this long to come for her.”

“I know. The princess hasn’t been here in… what, eighteen years? How does it feel to drive away your only daughter? I imagine it must have hurt terribly when she ran away.” Regina shrugged casually. “Even as I searched for her, I enjoyed knowing you were in pain.”

Her mother’s voice was still strong despite the queen’s cutting words. “You’re wasting your time. The curse will come into play in just a couple weeks and you’ll die. There’s no stopping it.”

“What makes you think I haven’t already found and killed her?” Regina sounded confident, and it brought her mother up short for a moment. But then she pressed a fist to her chest.

“I’d know if Emma was dead. And she’s not.”

“Denial, perhaps?”

“A mother’s intuition.”

Regina exhaled an amused sound. “Doubtful. She could have been dead, cold in the ground for years, and you’d have never known. And now here I stand, ready to take back my rightful kingdom.”

“You haven’t won – not yet. And you should have never been able to rule these people in the first place. They’ll never accept you. You’re nothing more than a wicked, evil queen.”

“And here I thought you were such a sweet and gentle person.” Regina’s countenance darkened. “Do your people know of your own past? Do they know how you lied and betrayed my trust? Do they know how your actions caused the death of an innocent man?”

Emma’s eyes widened at Regina’s words, searched her mother’s face for an answer to the questions being thrown about. Tinkerbell had only mentioned a misunderstanding between the two women, but Regina was speaking of something else entirely. What was the truth in their past?

“I’ve had enough of this. Guards!”

Her father’s summons rang out loud and clear. Almost immediately, pounding footsteps and clanging metal armor sounded from the hallways leading up to the chamber. Emma glanced around as the guards filed in from hidden doorways and lined the walls, every one of them clearly on the alert, but Regina never broke eye contact with the king.

“You think you can subdue me? After everything that’s happened, do you honestly think that these men would even be able to get close?” Regina’s lip was curled up in a sneer. “I could kill them all right now; in the time it would take you to blink, they would be dead, and I would’ve never even moved.”

“You should know us better than to think we’ll just stand by quietly.” Her mother stepped forward, ignoring the restraining hand her father laid on her arm. “We defeated you once, we can do it again.”

To everyone’s surprise, Regina began to laugh. The sound spread up to the high ceiling before echoing back down to them. “I forget sometimes that she comes by it naturally.” At Charming and Snow’s simultaneous frowns, she clarified. “Bravery. I told her it’s a foolish thing, but with parents like you, she can hardly help it.”

An inkling of understanding had just begun to creep through her parents’ confusion, when Regina waved her hand in Emma’s direction with a dramatic flourish.

“Behold the runaway, returned home at last.”

The same prickling sensation of magic began, only this time in reverse. It started in her toes, spread up her legs and across her torso, and as the magic worked through her, Emma slowly became visible to the room. And when the sensation had passed to the peak of her head and faded completely, a simultaneous gasp made its way around the throne room. Hesitantly, her eyes spanned the ring of guards, all of which looked uneasily to their comrades, before settling on her parents. Her father seemed to sway slightly even as he held tightly to both her mother’s arm and the hilt of the sword at his side. Her mother had both hands clapped over her mouth, tears visible in her eyes.

“Emma…”

Her whispered name barely reached across the room. The entire room was still, the pressure swelling until Emma took one shaky step forward.

“Mom.”

Another step.

“Dad.”

But then a rush of wind swept through the throne room and the previously empty space above them filled with dark clouds that emitted thunder and flashes of lightning. Yelling filled the air, a combination of the guards and her parents, as well as Regina’s triumphant laugh. Emma’s hair whipped at her face as she tried to move towards them in the commotion, but magic once again stretched out and held her immobile.

The air crackled, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and arms standing on end with the pervasive electricity. Suddenly, a clap of thunder sounded and a streak of light cut through the clouds to crash into the wall near a line of guards. Debris fell onto their heads, but they had no time to regroup as bolt after bolt of lightning came at them. Her mother crouched on the floor, her father’s arm thrown protectively over her as he attempted to shield her from the storm and its effects.

The guards made one last desperate attempt to escape the destruction before a single bolt of lightning struck the floor right in front of Emma. Traces of electricity spread out from the charred point to strike at the guards, each of them collapsing. With the guards no longer an issue, the storm cleared quickly, the only remnants being wisps of clouds that swirled down to encircle her parents before solidifying into ropes.

“No!” Emma found her voice again, struggled futilely against the magic that held her. “Let them go! I’m the one you want; you don’t need them.”

“You’re right, I don’t need them.” Regina strode forward to stand before the bound royals. “But while your death will ensure my life, it will also fulfill a long-standing vengeance.” Leaning down, she spoke directly to Emma’s mother, meeting the hatred in Snow’s eyes with her own cruel look of victory. “And that vengeance wouldn’t be nearly as sweet without your dear mother around to witness it.”

The Evil Queen straightened, motioning to her men that had appeared outside the throne room. They filed in, grasped Charming and Snow, and drug them to their feet. Ropes gagged her parents and prevented them from speaking, but their eyes spoke volumes as they glared at Regina. They only dropped their hard expressions when they finally stood before Emma.

A single tear trickled from her mother’s eye, and Emma felt one of her own tears spill over to mirror her mother’s.

“Take them to the dungeons.” Then Regina turned to the reunited family. “Enjoy your time together. You don’t have much left.”


	15. A Dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where credit is due: the beginning segment was inspired by Tales From the House of the Moon by Resmiranda.

_“Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.”_

* * *

Killian had spent many sleepless nights thinking of Milah, had relived her death countless times when the bottom of the rum bottle and the quiet of the night snuck up on him. But one day he woke up to realize that he hadn’t thought about her in a while because a golden-haired princess had taken up residence where she used to be.

Was he forgetting her?

Was he replacing her?

Those were the questions that plagued him. He would ask them over and over to the wind and the sea and the sky because he needed to know if what he was doing – possibly giving up a chance at her vengeance – was right, but the world remained silent and left him to wonder. So he’d wondered, day after day, whether or not the princess was worth it. Every time he looked at her, every time he saw her smile or laugh, every time he felt her lips against his.

He wondered until, one day, he collapsed into his bed, still drenched from the thunderstorm. Exhausted from his journey from the palace to find the Jolly Roger and the weight of what had happened in Regina’s dungeon, he instantly fell asleep.

And Killian didn’t dream often, but that night, he dreamed of her.

_The woods surrounded him, pressing in and stretching high to block the sun. There were no noises, no birds or bugs or wind or crunching of leaves, as he rotated and gazed upwards. With the foliage like a canopy above his head, the forest should have been darker, but he was able to see as clearly as if the trees themselves emitted their own light source. A butterfly fluttered across his line of sight, and he followed the insect until it disappeared behind a tree._

_The strangeness of the situation – the bright and quiet forest and the fact that he had no idea how he’d even come to be in the place – didn’t bother him as it should. His lack of being bothered also should have bothered him, but it didn’t. The woods were unfamiliar and the situation bizarre, but he wasn’t worried because he just felt that not being worried was the right way to be._

_Gradually, he noticed a heaviness to the air. Not in a way that made it difficult to breathe, but in a way that made him want to sit and relax and just be at peace. Like he could sit down, sink into the leaves and moss, and sleep. Everything was so quiet and tranquil that, yes, resting seemed to be the only logical course of action at the moment. It didn’t make sense when he tried to think about it – wasn’t he more a man of action? – but then it came up again, the not worrying feeling._

_He was turning in a circle to find a suitable spot for a nap when he felt the tremble in the air. There was a slight increase in pressure, a subsequent pop in his ears, and then she was there where she hadn’t been before._

_“Killian.”_

_Her voice sounded right, sounded like what he remembered, but it had been so long since he’d heard it that he didn’t know if what he imagined her voice to sound like was what it really sounded like or not. She looked right, too. Curly hair, enigmatic smile on her lips, hands perched on her hips. But was her hair always that curly or had it been straighter? And was her skin always that pale or had it been darker from time spent in the sun? And was she always that short or had she been just a little taller? And was she always without a sword or had she carried one he’d given her for protection?_

_He couldn’t exactly remember, but…_

_“You look different.”_

_The smile remained on her face, but at his words, the corners of her mouth dropped slightly and a melancholy glint entered her eyes. It didn’t seem right for her to look so sad yet so resigned; that wasn’t the person he remembered her to be, and he almost wanted to reach out and touch her to see if she was real._

_“So do you.”_

_But when he looked down at himself he thought how he didn’t look different at all because this was him. With the leather and the boots and the cutlass and the rum, he was him and that was that._

_“You used to wear red.” He looked back to her. “I liked it when you wore red.”_

_Yes, red had been the color he wore when he was with her._

_But now he wore black._

_Black shirt. Black vest. Black coat. Black pants. Black boots._

_And perhaps he was different. There was red in the ring on his hand, but his other hand was gone. It hadn’t been that way when he was with her. He stared at the metal hook as it refracted the strange light and thought that, even though some things had changed, he was still the same man… but he wasn’t. His personality was different. And his face and hair and clothes were different. And his heart was different._

_“I loved you.” His voice sounded pained, and he was surprised to hear himself say it in past tense because didn’t he still love her?_

_She still had the wistful smile on her face. “And I loved you, too.”_

_Then he realized that their words were both in the past because they were in the past. He could no longer love Milah the person, only Milah the memory. He stared at her while his heart remembered how it had loved her, but then a vision of gold floated through his mind and he thought that loving her memory wasn’t so bad after all because there was someone else now. And he finally knew that the answer he’d sought for so long was: ‘Yes, but it’s ok.’ It was time for him to move on. It was time to leave the woods and Milah and return to a ship and Emma._

_“You’re not him, you know.”_

_Who?_

_“Don’t be Hook when you were meant to be Killian.”_

* * *

Killian had been ousted from Regina’s palace with a limited timeframe.

Twenty-seven days.

Six hundred forty-eight hours.

Thirty-eight thousand eight hundred eighty minutes.

No matter how large the number, it all boiled down to not enough time. He had almost four weeks until Emma’s thirtieth birthday, but there was no way of knowing when, during those four weeks, Regina was planning on killing Emma. The queen had mentioned the act needing to be done with flair. She wanted to make a scene for a more dramatic effect, which meant having people there to witness the act, and who better to witness the murder than the princess’ own parents and kingdom.

He was sure that’s where they would be headed; he only hoped that Regina would wait until closer to the deadline of the curse so he had enough time to do what he needed to and catch up with them.

Fortunately enough, he’d managed to come across his crew and the Jolly Roger fairly quickly. It turned out that a group of his men had spotted them being taken from Tortuga and had decided to covertly follow the ship. After dropping anchor at a nearby bluff, Starkey had sent out a reconnaissance group to bring back information on the Evil Queen’s castle only for them to bring back the captain instead. In most pirates, loyalty was a rare trait; many crews would have gladly taken the Jolly Roger and left Killian to his fate. He’d have to remember to reward each of his men with an extra share from their next bounty.

“That’s the beanstalk, Cap’n?”

It was almost amusing to hear Jukes’ deep voice sound so apprehensive, although as the group paused to look at the massive plant that wound its way into the clouds, Killian had to admit that the prospect of climbing the thing was more than a little daunting.

“Aye, that’d be it.”

Pressing forward, it didn’t take long for the group to realize that, like spotting land on the ocean, the distance to the beanstalk was much farther than it originally appeared. The area surrounding the beanstalk was all farmland, cleared and cultivated for agricultural purposes, but their journey up to the fields was through thick woods that severely hampered their progress. Killian was forced to use his cutlass to hack a path through the deep undergrowth, and he heard his men mutter curses on more than one occasion as they tripped on hidden tree roots.

They were crossing a rare meadow within the forest when Smee sped up to walk beside Killian. “Captain, we were wondering, what’s the plan once we reach the beanstalk?”

“We’ll use the cuffs the queen gave me to climb it. There’s one for each of us.”

“What if they don’t work? How do you know we can trust her?”

Killian shrugged, pulling ahead of Smee once more as the meadow ended and the forest began again, and answered over his shoulder. “I don’t, but I’ve a feeling Regina was being honest about the cuffs only because she doesn’t expect us to survive the giant at the top. They’re notoriously difficult and violent creatures. However, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

Nervousness rolled off the man behind him, enough that Killian could feel it without even needing to look back. “We’re not all as good at surviving as you are, Captain.”

He grunted, slicing through a set of vines. “You seem to have fared well enough over the past three hundred years.”

“Only because you were around to lead us.”

Successfully protecting his crew for over three centuries was something Killian was quite proud of. He’d only lost a handful of men during that time. Five or six had left willingly, a few had died during skirmishes, and only two had been killed by his own hand – or hook, rather – for mutiny.

“Well I’m not sending you up the beanstalk in my place, sailor. I’ll be climbing the same bloody plant and facing the same bloody giant as you. We’ll get to the top, sneak past the giant, and find the dagger… and then we’ll run like hell.”

It wasn’t the best plan he’d ever concocted, but it was all he had.

A broken tree branch hung in the path, and Killian cut it down with an energy that hadn’t faded since… well, since the dream. He’d awoken the following morning overflowing with purpose and a determination to do whatever it took to rescue Emma and had immediately gathered Smee, Jukes, Starkey, and Mullins to accompany him in acquiring the dagger. With every step he took, every decision he made, his blood burned and fueled him, driving him to not give up hope. And it was ironic, really, since hope seemed to be much more fitting in princesses than pirates.

In the end, it took them two full days of travelling before they finally stood at the base of the massive plant. Shielding their eyes from the blindingly bright midday sun, they craned their necks to follow its path into the sky. Thick stalks wound in and around each other in an intricate embrace that would make the climb easier than Killian had expected. He approached, looping his hook around a vine and pulling sharply to test its strength. When it didn’t so much as budge, he turned back to his men with a grin.

“Well, no time like the present. Let’s get moving.”

His crew managed to entertain themselves, retelling stories of their – most likely exaggerated – heroics before beginning to speculate on both the giant that awaited them…

“I heard they can smell even just a single drop of blood.”

“I heard they’ll crush a man to dust and use him for seasoning.”

… as well as the treasure.

“I heard there are piles of treasure, more gold than a whole army could carry.”

“I heard that the jewels are larger than a man’s head.”

“Well, I heard there’s a goose that lays golden eggs bigger than a house.”

At Smee’s statement, the other men all fell silent and paused to look at him before Mullins broke the silence. “A goose? Really, Smee, that’s the best you could come up with?” Finally, one of them let out a bark of laughter that got them all joining in, and they resumed the climb.

Smee’s cheeks reddened nearly enough to match his floppy hat as he mumbled. “I’m just saying what I’ve heard.”

Killian had enough faith in the sailor’s skills to know there might be some truth to his claim. Smee had come through on more than one occasion. A fowl with the ability to produce gold? It seemed far-fetched, but he’d encountered stranger things in his life. Still, a goose that laid golden eggs would be fantastic; however, a goose large enough to lay golden eggs bigger than a house, not so much.

Hours later, they were still climbing. The men’s banter had eventually lapsed into silence, the only sound now being the rushing wind and strenuous breathing. Years spent climbing rigging had strengthened each of the pirates, but now, nearing the end of an hours-long climb, the men were exhausted. It didn’t help that moisture from the cloud bank had soaked into their clothes, weighing them down.

So it was with aching arms and quivering legs that Killian finally reached the top of the beanstalk and heaved his body over the precipice to lie on a stone courtyard and catch his breath. “Bloody peasants with their bloody magic beans…” The peasants that had grown this particular beanstalk were long dead by now, having perished in the giant wars that had resulted from their foolish gardening. Peeking back down over the side to see exactly how far they’d climbed, Killian couldn’t help but think that it served the greedy crofters right.

The courtyard turned out to be fairly empty, with only a few broken statues, piles of stone, and thriving weeds lining the edge. However, while the courtyard may have been barren, the large room they entered after passing through the doorway was not. The walls were decorated with all manner of torches and tapestries and artwork, and the ceiling soared high above them, arching gracefully into a point. The room itself was filled with piles of gold; heaping mountains of it, stacked higher than a typical human building. And there were jewels… diamonds and sapphires, rubies and emeralds.

Everything about the room literally sparkled.

Treasure was a natural draw to pirates, and Killian’s men were no exception. They turned in circles, mouths gaping open, as they stared at the room. Starkey was the first one to recover enough to speak.

“How are we supposed to find the dagger in all this?” And it was a genuinely good question considering how much treasure there was to go through.

“By looking; start searching.” Killian only wished he had a better answer than that.

And so they searched; dug through pile after pile, heap after heap, of gold for a glimpse of the all-important dagger. While they looked, Killian kept a wary eye on their surroundings. They’d been in the room for close to an hour now and had yet to see any sign of the giant. It would have been a stroke of luck for the giant to be dead, but he wouldn’t bet on it. They needed to find the dagger and get out as soon as possible.

“Whoa…”

Killian turned at Starkey’s exclamation to see his men all staring at a pile of bones on the ground. Absentmindedly fingering a gold coin, he made his way to the group. The person had been dead for quite some time now, the clothes rotted and bones picked clean. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the edgy shifting of his men; no one fancied the idea of being eaten by a giant. Crowded around the skeletal figure, Killian spotted the elegant inscription on the nearby blade.

“Ah, Jack.”

“What’s that, Captain?”

He repeated the previously mumbled words louder this time. “That would be Jack. You might know him as Jack the Giant Slayer.”

The giant wars had occurred during his stint in Neverland, but he’d heard plenty of the tales upon his return. It was surprising for one person to be so skilled at killing the beasts, although he’d also heard stories of the sword itself being enchanted. Looking at the blade, it didn’t seem remarkable in any way, but appearances weren’t everything.

Finally glancing up, he issued a command to continue looking and returned to the search. He was forced to step carefully around the treasure that was scattered across the floor. It seemed unlikely for an item of such importance as the Dark One’s dagger to be placed amidst everything else, but that could also have been the queen’s idea. Hiding something of value in plain sight would definitely make for a harder find.

Killian was inspecting some items – there was a magnificent looking compass that called to the pirate in him as much as the treasure – when he heard a whizzing sound followed closely by yelling. He turned just in time to see Smee, Jukes, and Starkey being trapped as a heavy, metal cage landed with an echoing thud. Mullins, having narrowly escaped with a last-minute roll, now gaped in shock from the ground as Jukes inspected the perimeter of the men’s confines for a way out. With a frustrated huff, Killian crossed the room.

“A trip wire, Captain.” He shot a glare at Smee who rightfully cowered. “We didn’t notice it until it was too late.”

Obviously.

Leave them alone for two seconds…

Killian covered his eyes and pressed his thumb and finger to his temples. Now, they not only had to locate the dagger but also find a way to get his crewmembers free. Rescuing his men would have to wait, though, because at that moment, the ground began to quake. Beginnings of a headache forgotten, it didn’t take him long to identify the tremors as the footsteps of an approaching giant, no doubt alerted by the metal contraption.

Gripping a handful of Mullins’ jerkin, Killian pulled him to his feet and shoved him in the opposite direction of the cage before speaking to the trapped pirates. “We’ll figure out a way to get you free if you lot of idiots manage to stay alive long enough.” His statement earned a frightened squeak from Smee, but the sound was soon lost in the noise as treasure rattled, shifting to spread even further across the floor.

The two pirates had just taken refuge behind a pile of crates when the giant burst through the doorway. Everything in the entire castle was of monstrous proportions, but nothing could truly prepare a person for how large a giant really was. Although he looked like a normal man, he towered over the room. The giant glanced around before spotting the trapped men and approaching them, and the floor shook with his footsteps to the point where Killian swore his entire body was momentarily lifted from the ground.

Crouching down to peer at the men, the giant spoke in a booming voice. “You dare to enter my castle, filthy humans?” The three pirates pressed back into a far corner, remaining silent. “You lot are a little scrawny, but if I cook you long enough, I should at least get some good flavor for a soup.”

Killian’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. If his men tasted anywhere close to the way they sometimes smelled, the giant’s soup would be horrid.

“I’ll add onions and potatoes and cabbage and…”

While the giant spoke of what all he would do, Killian watched as Jukes and Starkey moved to stand in front of Smee, effectively shielding the man who was furiously digging through his satchel. Then he caught a glimpse of a small, white bag before it was discreetly hid behind Smee’s back.

Sensing a plan of some sort, Killian’s eyes narrowed. There was little he could do to aid them; he was no match for the giant. If only he had food from Wonderland, then he would grow to a size able to take on his crew’s captor; although, he’d also need a drink from the odd realm to return to his normal size.

He was still pondering what kind of plan the pirates had concocted when there was a yell, a sharp movement, and a ensuing burst of powder. Whatever was in the white bag had been tossed directly into the giant’s face. Killian watched as he straightened in surprise and stumbled for a moment, dazed, before collapsing to the ground, shaking the walls and causing small avalanches of treasure throughout the room. Gold clinked as it hit all around them, and Killian felt a couple pieces hit against his back. It seemed he came off fairly easy, though, as a sapphire-encrusted goblet tumbled down to connect with Mullins’ head, who let loose a string of curses that would make any sailor proud.

The pirate grumbled irately beside him, but Killian’s eyes remained focused on the now prone giant laid out on the floor. He waited, watching for any type of movement, before deciding that the giant would be out for a while. Still, they tried to remain quiet as they sprinted to the cage. Mullins was the first to speak when they arrived.

“What the hell was that?”

“Poppy powder. Just something I picked up in port once; thought it might be useful someday.”

It seemed everyone except for him was in possession of the sleeping powder. Oh well… no one could ever question the resourcefulness of the bumbling, red-capped sailor.

Killian had spotted a built-in door and was just reaching for the lock when Starkey spoke up. “We already tried, Cap’n.” They attempted to lift the cage, but even with all five of them, the contraption didn’t budge. It seemed the only option was to find the key to the lock or some way to cleave through the metal bars.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any other useful items in your bag, would you, Smee?”

“Afraid not, Captain.”

Because that would make everything too easy.

“Right then… Mullins, let’s get to work. Add a key to the list of things we need to find.” He turned to the trapped men. “You three yell for us if it looks like the giant is starting to wake.” And then the hunt continued.

They searched urgently, not knowing how long the poppy powder would work on the giant. His first – and only – experience with the substance had been in the darkened room back in Tortuga, and its effects had varied in duration for each person. There was no way of estimating how long they had until he awoke.

They were just passing several heaps of gold when both Killian and Mullins stilled, eyes meeting cautiously. It was a brief, muffled sound, but a sound nonetheless. There was something assuredly alive on the other side of the mountain of coins. Quietly, Killian pointed upwards and they began to climb. The coins slid beneath their hands and feet, but the incline was sloped enough for them to reach the top without too much difficulty. Although, when they crested the top, Killian both thanked and cursed his luck.

A large box sat in the middle of a veritable valley of treasure, the peaks of gold rising all around it, and within the box rested numerous items. A sheaf of papers, an ornate crown, a silver key, a blood-red stone, a vial of glowing liquid, and a crooked dagger. Immediately, his heart started to beat a little harder, a little faster. Not only had he located the imp’s dagger, but that key looked small enough to fit the cage in which his crew was trapped. Both of the items he needed were right there, conveniently in the same location. There was only one problem…

Guarding the items was a massive white goose, under which rested a pile of golden eggs that were each as large as any full-grown man.

Mullins pursed his mouth and shifted his head back and forth, taking in the situation. “Well, they’re not as big as a house.” Killian’s sharp glance was met with a satirical one. “I won’t tell Smee if you won’t.”

“I’m not the one that mocked him.”

“Ah, right.”

Returning his focus to the bigger – and much more feathered – issue at hand, Killian began to work up a plan. The fates must have been on the pirates’ side because the bird was currently sleeping, head tucked under one wing, so the plan would be simple: sneak past and steal the items. Not much of a plan, really. Clearly, the clock ticking away the seconds that remained of Emma’s life made him anxious and, therefore, unable to formulate plans more worthy of the name Captain Hook.

Aye, he’d go with that.

After some quiet communication, the two pirates descended and slipped around to peek through the only gap in the golden walls of the valley. The box was on the far side of the goose so they’d have to make their way past it. Keeping a wary eye on the dozing animal, they crept forward, moving even more slowly when they passed by its head. How keen was a goose’s hearing anyway?

After what seemed like the longest few minutes of his life, they stood before the box. Most of the items seemed nondescript; although he was sure they were important in some way or another. However, he had no use for papers or stones or crowns. The key that would possibly release his men lay in the upper left corner, slightly rusty from lack of use. But in the center…

A crooked smile eased over Killian’s face at the sight of the equally crooked dagger that he’d searched so long for. It gleamed, the imp’s name shining back at him from the flat of the blade. Finally. _Finally_. Ever hardship he’d endured, every struggle he’d had to face… for this. Almost reverently, he reached forward to claim his prize.

Killian would normally call himself a stealthy man; three centuries had been more than enough time to practice the best ways to sneak up on unsuspecting people. When evading detection, he was single-minded, focused entirely on the task at hand. Everyone was prone to an off day, though. So when he reached for the dagger and his hook moved marginally, coming into contact with a metal decoration on the box with a clink and he was suddenly faced with an eye as large as he was, he wasn’t thinking anything along the lines of stealth.

“Mullins – run!”

The shouted words garnered the animal’s attention from his partner. With a rush of wind, it beat its wings and drew itself up to an impressive height, cocking its head to one side to focus on its target. The motion would have been comical at another time, but there was no time for laughing as it released a squawk and took a step towards Killian.

Immediately, he backpedaled, distractedly noticing the small form of Mullins circling behind the bird that had abandoned both its nest and the items at the intruder before it. When another shrieked sound cut through the air, his eyes flew back to the goose and he turned and ran. Following the curve of the golden mountains, he kept the animal’s back to his partner for as long as possible before being forced back towards the nest. When he turned towards his only exit, he could hear his pursuer stop.

Killian picked up on the sound of beating wings before the wind even reached him. When it finally did, it pushed at his back before knocking him off his feet altogether. Even sprawled on the ground, the force of it pushed him a few more feet before it cut off altogether. Rolling quickly to catch a glimpse of the bird, he stumbled to his feet and faced it as it approached.

He scanned his surroundings. He was still near the nest and entirely too far from his only path of escape. With the goose closing in, there was no way he’d be able to run now. Lowering its head, it snaked towards him, and he struck out with his hook, leaving a shallow line in its beak. It ruffled its feathers indignantly at the contact but, unfortunately enough, seemed uninjured. Killian wished he could say the same. The impact with its hard beak had caused a tremor to run through his arm and had left a dull ache in its wake.

The goose tilted its head from side to side, observing him with first one eye and then the other before it darted forward. There was no time to plan ahead, only dodge peck after peck from the giant fowl. Some people kept birds as pets; he’d even had a crewmember for a while that had a parrot. But as a particularly close attack brushed his arm and knocked him off his feet once again, he decided he’d never be much of a bird person after this.

There wasn’t much he could do; as it was, the goose was advancing and forcing him farther from his exit. Damn it all… he gritted his teeth. Long ago, he’d come to realize he wasn’t afraid of death. He didn’t want to die, per se – he very much wanted to experience the rest of his life – but the idea of it no longer filled him with the dread it once did.

However, being killed by a gigantic goose was a monumentally horrid thought.

And he refused to let that happen.

“Come on, then.” He growled out the challenge.

Moving quickly, he dodged the beak again, only this time he spun towards the creature and drove his hook through the feathers to bury in the flesh on the side of the goose’s face. Startled, the animal honked and reared back, pulling Killian with it. He watched the ground fall away from him until the world became a jumble as the goose shook its head in an attempt to dislodge the source of its pain. Body flailing with the sharp movements, he managed to grab hold of some feathers with his free hand and pull himself up enough to jerk his hook free.

For a moment, he dangled there, unsure because the floor seemed impossibly far away, but the angry eye that was fixed on him was enough motivation for him to let go.

Falling was an incredibly uncomfortable sensation. When the Jolly Roger travelled to Neverland through the portal, the fall had been short enough to not bother him. This fall, however, seemed much longer. Wind rushed in his ears and the colors of the room blurred. It seemed strange for there to be enough time for him to consider whether or not he should twist his body to face his eventual impact or just remain as he was and let his back connect first, but maybe his mind was just working in a quicker way that matched his speedy descent.

He was halfway through turning when he met the ground.

His body should have been crushed, bones breaking and flattening with the force of the impact. However, his bones remained in one piece and thankfully not-flattened when he landed in the soft hay of the goose’s nest. It pillowed his fall, and he came to a stop with an excellent – or not excellent, depending on a person’s opinion – view of the angry bird above him. It squawked loudly and then Killian was moving. He was probably a sight to behold, ungracefully rolling and throwing his body through the squashy hay to reach the edge, but survival was the key so he really didn’t care.

There was no sight of Mullins when he finally reached solid ground and took off at a sprint. Hopefully the pirate had managed to grab the items and not ended up crushed beneath one of the webbed feet that now slapped against the ground behind him, but he didn’t take the time to look, just dashed out of the valley-of-sorts and into the open room.

When Killian heard its beak snap far too close for comfort, he began to wind his way through the heaps of treasure. Maneuvering through the golden obstacles hampered the goose’s progress, putting some much-desired breathing room between the animal and himself. It still pursued him, but the distance grew as it was forced to waddle around areas he was able to slip through. But he didn’t slow down.

He skidded around a mound of treasure, scrambling when one of his boots lost traction for a moment, before he spotted his destination. The giant was still asleep on the floor, and he could just make out Mullins working at the door to the cage, the trapped men clutching at the bars and urging him on. Thankfully, it appeared that the pirate had successfully retrieved the items.

Killian could tell when the men got their first glimpse of the goose that tailed him; their eyes widened and the urging became significantly louder and more frantic. Crossing the last stretch to his men, he felt a surge of relief when the door swung open and his men filed out.

“Here you go, Captain!”

He’d only just arrived, hadn’t even come to a stop yet, when Mullins tossed the dagger to him. He gripped the hilt tightly, fingers curling around and his nails digging into the palm of his hand, as he took a moment to savor the feeling of sweet, sweet victory. That is, until an indignant squawk sounded from behind him, reminding him of exactly where they were. One look behind him was all it took for him to shove the dagger into his waistband and start pushing at his men.

“Time to go!” But the majority of them didn’t need any more prompting, already having started for the beanstalk.

The goose still trailed them as they filtered out of the giant’s castle and into the courtyard, sprinting to the flash of green that was the beanstalk protruding from the stone. One by one, they began their descent; there was no time to catch their breath. Smee, Jukes, Starkey, Mullins. They grabbed hold of the twining vines and descended much more quickly than they’d climbed. Sparing a glance for the goose, Killian watched as it reared up, stretching its wings wide. He reached for the nearest vine, knowing what was coming, but was too slow.

Wind rushed around him as it had within the castle, lifting him off his feet and blowing him forward. Almost idly, he watched as the rough texture of the courtyard left his view only for it to be replaced with the wide, white expanse of clouds as he was hurtled through the gap in the stones and began a terrifyingly rapid fall towards the land below. His mouth opened, but the strangled yell that was just forming in his throat became a grunted _oomph_ when his body came into contact with a hard being. There was a yelp, a sharp pain in his right ankle, and then a heavy weight pulled on his hook.

Everything was chaos for a moment as his senses struggled to catch up to what had just happened. He looked down his body to see the goose’s head through the opening in the courtyard. Then he looked up to see the cloud bank with the occasional speck of brown and green, the only sign of the land that rested far beneath them.

The goose was down, the land was up.

That wasn’t right.

Trying again, he looked down; he ignored the goose this time only to see his foot caught amidst a set of vines. Then he looked up again, this time taking in the sight of a frightened Smee holding on to his hook as if his life depended on it; considering the fact that the man was dangling out into the open air, it did. Killian was suspended upside down some thousands of feet up in the air, his ensnared boot the only thing preventing both him and Smee from falling to their deaths.

Perfect.

“Hold on, Captain – we’re coming!” The other three crewmembers were quite a ways above them still, but moved quickly down the beanstalk to help.

The constant pressure of the pirate’s weight hurt. It strained the connecting tissues of his shoulder as well as the contraption that held his hook in place. It was a design all his own. In the beginning, he’d been forced to secure it with leather straps; however, while in Neverland, Tinkerbell had used a bit of her magic to charm the device to his skin. Now, the only thing preventing Smee from falling to certain death was the strength of Killian’s joints and the internal workings that kept his hook locked in place.

The men paused when they reached Killian’s foot, but he urged them to continue. “Get down there to help him.” Within moments, they clung to the beanstalk at their companion’s level.

“Smee…” Killian’s teeth ground together, fighting the pain he felt at either end of his body, but the words were enough to draw Smee’s eyes. “I’m going to swing you over to the beanstalk. Be ready.”

The task turned out to be harder than it looked. His foot was lodged in such a way that he faced away from the beanstalk, which meant he had to arch his back painfully to get Smee even marginally close to the vines and the other pirates’ waiting hands. If he ever had the chance again, he’d be sure to not let Emma be the only one practicing her flexibility during their more intimate moments.

On the third swing, Killian was finally able to bring Smee close enough to grasp the vines. Immediately, hands grabbed hold of his arms and clothes to steady him against the beanstalk where he let out a shuddering breath. Now free of the weight, Killian pulled himself up, looped his hook around a higher vine, and pulled his foot free. There was a brief, unnerving moment when his hand and hook were the only things holding him, but then his feet found purchase on the beanstalk.

With one final look at the angry goose and a reassuring touch to the dagger, he descended.

It wasn’t until his feet were finally on solid ground that Killian let himself relax. He’d done it. Against all odds, he’d managed to acquire the dagger. The queen had expected him to die in the castle atop the beanstalk – rightfully so, considering what all he’d faced – but he’d prevailed. The story would be a good one, something that would be well-received by the drunks in taverns; that is, if he was ever able to frequent one again because now the real test began. Pulling the wavy blade from his waistband, he stared for a moment at the only hope he had for Emma’s rescue.

“So, what now, Cap’n?”

No matter what motivated him, there was only one course of action now that he held the dagger; all paths pointed in the same direction. A dangerous smirk played across his mouth as he turned to his men.

“We go to pay Rumplestiltskin a visit.”


	16. A Promise and A Threat

_“And when she stood, she stood tall. She’ll make a fool of you all.”_

* * *

Emma craned her neck, peering up into the limbs and leaves of the ancient oak tree. It was by far the tallest tree on the palace grounds, the tips of its tallest branches so high they seemed to poke the clouds overhead.

“You have to go all the way to the top or it doesn’t count.”

Shielding her eyes from the few rays of sunshine trying to break through, she turned slightly to glance at the four boys that stood nearby. Faces smudged with streaks of dirt, stained trousers and tunics, boots caked with mud and muck, and bits of hay trapped in their hair… they were a few of the stable boys that cared for the palace horses. Hansel – they called him Hans, for short – was playing ringleader, standing ahead of the others with his arms crossed and a challenging smirk.

She glanced back at the tree, her eyes scanning upwards.

The first tree she’d ever climbed had been when she was six. Going up had been easy, but when she’d reached a stopping point and looked down, she’d panicked and refused to move until her father came to help her down. Back on solid ground, she’d heard something and had turned to see a group of boys jeering and laughing at her. Her father, preoccupied in conversation with a guard that had come to help, never even noticed the vexed look she’d given the boys.

Looking back, that was probably the day her competitive streak truly came to light.

Since then, everything had become a sort of competition between them. One of the boys would ride a horse through the steeplechase; she would follow and try to complete the course both faster and without knocking down as many obstacles. One of the boys would swim across the pond; she would swim across at an even wider point just to show she could do the distance. One of the boys would challenge her to a footrace; she would sprint across the palace lawn regardless of the fact that she wore a dress. In the end, it didn’t matter that they were a few years older because she’d been adamant that anything they could do, she could do better.

Now today, they were climbing the tree before her. Hans had already completed his go at the task. He’d shimmied his way up the trunk and then scrambled through the branches until he’d been almost to the top of the tree. At twelve years old, he was quite a bit heavier than the petite, nine year old Emma, and it showed when the spindly branches near the top refused to hold his weight. All she had to do was make it into those tip-top branches and she’d win.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re scared, Princess.” And that time she shot the boy a sharp glare.

“I’m _not_ scared.” Which was only partly true. She’d climbed her fair share of trees since that first time and had overcome her fear of heights, but this tree was massive, towering over her tiny form. Scaling this tree wouldn’t only be challenging, it would be dangerous. Her mother would be worried sick if she knew. Even still, she was too stubborn to give up.

Squaring her shoulders, she approached the tree. The bark was rough against her hands. Having just come from her horseback lesson with her father, she still wore some of her best riding clothes – soft shirt covered by an embroidered vest and buckskin breeches tucked into supple leather riding boots – and had no doubt they would be ruined after the climb.

Oh well.

She took one last deep breath and began to climb. The sturdy branches were farther up, so she was forced to utilize the knots that littered the trunk to move ahead. They offered a precarious hold, but her hands were small enough to grasp the protrusions. Before too long, she was crawling onto a huge limb that was wide enough for her to lay on, should she wish. Choosing to sit for a moment, she caught her breath, gathered her courage, and looked into the tangle of branches to figure out what path would be best.

“Are you planning on taking a nap up there?” Antagonizing seemed to be in Hans’ very nature.

“Are you planning on crying when I beat you?”

He barked a laugh. “Well, you won’t win if you keep sitting there.”

“Shut up.” The words were meant more for the doubts in her head than the boys on the ground. She was determined; she could do this. So with teeth gritted in purpose, she stood up.

The branches were relatively easy to climb through. Large and solid, they supported her and allowed for excellent maneuvering; some of them were so close she could simply step from limb to limb. It wasn’t until she reached the higher parts of the tree that the branches began to shrink in size and thin out. When they began to sag even under her meager weight, she moved to stand closer to the points where the limbs joined the trunk as they were the strongest there. Quite a few times, she was forced to jump, reaching out to grab hold of a limb and pull herself up. After one such leap, she paused to inspect her progress.

The ground was far beneath her, tiny specks that were the stable boys barely visible through the mess of leaves and branches. After her all of her exertions, she’d worked up a sweat, and her shirt clung to her sweaty skin. A breeze would be much appreciated, but everything had the kind of still before a storm, not even a hint of movement in the air. She glanced up and had a clear view of the sky. It had darkened during her climb, the sun now fully trapped behind a wall of dark clouds that threatened rain.

Emma needed to hurry and finish so she could get back on the ground because a breeze would be nice, but rain… not so much.

The branches continued to thin and weaken, forcing her to move carefully. Despite having built up some muscles by practicing swordplay, archery, and horseback riding for several years now, her arms and legs still ached. Her hands ached, too. Scraped raw from the rough bark, it would no doubt hurt to use them for the next few days.

She pulled herself up onto a limb and stood, weaving her body through the smaller twigs that jutted from the main branch, and came face to face with a sharp point. It was a broken branch, large enough to have been caused by something other than a bird or squirrel. With roughly one quarter of the tree left above her, she assumed this was where Hans had decided to stop and turn back once he realized the branches would no longer support him.

A newfound rush of energy surged through her; the end was in sight. Carefully, she worked her way through the last few strong limbs before hugging the trunk and shimmying her way up the last section. At the very top of the tree, the trunk forked, providing a convenient resting spot from which to celebrate her win. She wiggled into the space, pushed aside a few leafy limbs, and smiled.

“Ha!” Emma very nearly crowed, brimming with the feeling of success.

The victory was made even sweeter by the absolutely spectacular view. Well above the palace wall, she could see the entire town surrounding the castle. The market that bustled with activity, the chapel with its shining bell tower, the docks that led to the shimmering sea, and the far town wall, beyond which extended the forest for miles.

“How does it feel to lose, Hans?” She called down to the stable boy that she liked to think was sulking, but received no response.

A puff of wind caressed her face, pulling her attention to the clouds overhead, still dark and heavy, and she felt a drop of rain land on her cheek. Time to go. But she’d only managed to make her way back to Hans’ broken branch when the skies opened up. Lightning flashed and thunder snarled through the skies while the rain sluiced through the leaves, quickly soaking her clothes and coating the tree limbs.

“Be careful, Princess!” All prior traces of taunting were gone as the boys yelled up at her, but their words were barely distinguishable through the downpour.

Emma began cursing her decision to climb the tree when her foot slipped for the third time. Riding boots had a smooth bottom which didn’t work well with the wet, slick branches. Each time she slipped, she was able to grab the trunk to regain her balance. However, the fourth time she lost traction, she wasn’t so lucky.

She was still gripping the branch above her, and had just set her feet on the one beneath her when both feet slid out into open air. With a cry, she held tight to the limb and kicked her feet wildly, desperately trying to swing back towards safety.

“Emma!”

Now their cries were louder and laced with fear. She was over halfway down the tree but was still high enough for a fall to be deadly. A whimper made its way out as she rocked back and forth to renew her grip on the branch, but the rain had done its work. All it took was one hand losing a bit of purchase and then she was falling.

Everything was a blur and moving so fast and things kept hitting her, which hurt… but nothing hurt as bad as when she connected with the ground.

Her eyes opened to focus on a single glistening blade of grass. The dirt had turned to mud under her cheek, a bit of it trying to ooze into her slightly open mouth, but Emma couldn’t move away from it. Even trying to think was difficult; her cognitive functions must have still been dangling somewhere in the tree. She vaguely picked up on the sounds of yelling, could feel running footsteps pounding through the earth. A raindrop slid down her temple into her eye and she blinked. She didn’t know if the liquid that slid from the opposite end of her eye was the travelling raindrop or a tear.

“Emma!”

The voice sounded different – deeper. She tried to turn towards it but had to stop when pain lanced through the arm that was bent at an unnatural angle beneath her. But then a pair of warm, large hands were on her back and shoulder, moved to cup her face and tilt it out of the mud, and she saw her father.

“Emma… Emma, sweetheart, are you ok? What hurts?” His eyes roamed her face and body; one of his thumbs pulling her lower eyelid down to better check her eyes for signs of a concussion. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Gradually, her mind rejoined with her body and she was able to move and speak. She turned in his arms, shifting her legs to lay more on her back. “Everything hurts.” Because it did. “But mostly my arm.”

Her father leaned over her to inspect the obviously broken arm, and Emma spotted the stable boys hovering in the background. They stood there as the rain died off and fretted, some of them worrying their lips while others bit at their fingernails. She’d have to make sure her father wouldn’t punish them in any way; they weren’t to blame since she chose to climb the tree.

“If all you got from that fall were a few scratches and a broken arm, then consider yourself a very lucky girl.” And then he was gathering her into his arms and walking towards the castle, taking a moment to pause before the stable boys. “I think it’s time you guys go dry off and get back to work.”

The boys each gave her one more worried glance before dashing off in the direction of the stables. She watched their retreating forms. “Please don’t be mad at them, Dad. It wasn’t their fault…” But he didn’t reply, just began walking.

The small movements jostled her arm, shot painful jolts through her body, but she bit her lip and didn’t complain. It was likely her father wasn’t so much upset as he was worried. Even still, his silence made her sad.

“Your mother’s not going to like that you ruined your best riding clothes.”

“She’ll like that she can buy me some new ones.” At that, his eyes flicked down to hers while a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. They both knew her mother too well.

He walked in silence for a while longer before speaking again. “Did you at least climb very far?” And Emma couldn’t prevent a beaming grin despite the pain.

“I made it all the way to the top. Did you know you can see _everything_ from up there? Literally, everything! The entire village, the sea, the docks…”

Later that evening, after a nurse had set her arm and her mother had given her a half-hearted lecture about climbing trees, her father tucked her into bed. He lined her body with pillows to try and keep her from shifting in her sleep and carefully arranged her injured arm atop one of them. Then, he pulled the covers up to her chin and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

She couldn’t ask for a better father.

“Thanks for helping me.”

He sat down on the very edge of the bed. “Oh, sweetheart… I will always do my very best to protect you.”

“No matter what?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair. “No matter what.”

* * *

Was it wrong for one of her first thoughts after being thrown into the dungeon to be how much nicer it was compared to the last one she was in?

Maybe.

But she couldn’t deny that it was.

Beautifully decorated tiles lined the floors and walls, light flickered cheerfully from the sconces that hung every few feet, and a soft mattress adorned the corner of every cell. Clean and warm. If she weren’t being held behind bars against her will, she would almost be inclined to think of it as pleasant.

“Graham…” Ruby’s pleading voice was painful to hear. “Graham, please don’t do this. You can fight it…”

But he couldn’t, not if he wanted to live. With his heart in Regina’s grasp, he was under her complete control, an unwillingly loyal minion. He had no say in his actions as he tossed Ruby and August into the cell. If the blank look in his eyes was any indication, it was likely he wasn’t even truly aware of what he was doing.

Emma couldn’t even bear to watch. She stood there silently with her back to the room, the guards, her friends… and her parents. A guest of honor, she had a cell all to herself. Her mother and father were grouped in the one to her right and Ruby and August in the one to her left; surrounded by those she loved, but unable to truly embrace them.

There was more shuffling, and then came the sound of metal on metal, a resounding click, and Emma was trapped once more.

When she turned, Graham and all of the guards were gone. From the few excursions she’d made to the dungeons in her childhood, she remembered there to be only one exit, so it was likely the guards remained on watch there. However, they had nothing to fear from her. Designed by masters of the trade and infused with hints of magic, the dungeons had held both the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin in the past. The idea of escaping wasn’t one she was willing to entertain anymore.

Unbidden, her eyes drifted to the ceiling. What was happening in the rest of the kingdom? Would Regina kill the palace staff? The royal army? The townspeople? Would she lay waste to the land that, despite having fled it, Emma loved? Would she murder everyone until Emma, her parents, and her friends were all that remained?

“Emma.”

The soft voice drew her from her thoughts and sent a tingle through her body, brought with it images of starry nights wrapped in blankets and the scent of roses and the feel of feather-light lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes.

It came again, stronger this time. “Emma.” Many nights she’d spent imagining what her parents’ reaction would be if they ever reunited, but now that the time was here, she was afraid to turn.

“Sweetheart, please.” The heartfelt plea from her father broke down all her resolve.

Then she was not only turning but walking – more like striding – towards them. She was reaching for them through the bars. She was pulling them towards her, desperately yanking them into the best hug they could manage with the dividing bars between them. The iron pressed hard and cold into her sternum, but it only made her hold tighter to the parents she hadn’t seen in years.

Their warm embrace was something she hadn’t understood how badly she missed until it was happening again. A hand was cupping the back of her head, another pressing to the space between her shoulders, another gripping her arm, and another resting on her lower back. She buried her face in the silky texture of her mother’s dress, her own arms thrown around both of her parents’ shoulders.

He still smelled of cedar.

She still smelled of roses.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

The words were muffled by fabric and form, but she repeatedly muttered them. It wasn’t until Emma lifted her head enough to see over her mother’s shoulder that she realized she couldn’t see. The dungeon had transformed into a blurry and indistinct place with her tears. The slight quaking of her mother’s body gave away her silent crying, but her father remained stoic, a few shuddering breaths the only indication of how deeply the moment was affecting him.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

And there were words being said into her hair. Comforting and soothing whispers that she couldn’t understand, could only pick up the sentiment and inflection. But it was enough to understand. It was enough to know of their forgiveness. Here – now – it was enough.

For so long, she’d feared this moment.

For so long, she’d dreaded it.

For so long, she’d _wanted_ it.

With one last watery smile and warm touch to Emma’s cheek, her mother stepped back to look over Emma’s shoulder to the far cell. “We can talk more later. But right now, I believe some introductions are in order. I take it you know these people?”

August and Ruby, who had been silent throughout the exchange, now perked up, their heads turning simultaneously.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” And Emma managed to stifle a laugh and settle for a small chuckle at August’s awkward bow. Even Ruby – always so confident and self-assured – seemed out of her depth when she attempted a curtsy.

Her mother held up a hand. “The pleasure is mine, but please, none of the ‘Your Majesty’ bit. I’m Snow, and this is Charming. Really, his name is David, but the nickname stuck.” Brother and sister shared a hesitant glance before straightening. “And you are?”

Seeing her friends’ nervous expressions, Emma came to their rescue. “This is August and Ruby. They are… my very closest friends.” Which could be considered a vast understatement, but words really couldn’t express how much the two of them meant to her. The pair’s returning smiles held all of their shared moments. “They’re just as much my family as you and Dad.”

After spending the better part of eighteen years together, it was hard not to.

August had taught her how to barter for food in Tortuga, had protected her over the years, and been the one to teach her how to bartend. Ruby had taught her how to style her hair and makeup, how best to handle the men that came to The Salty Dog Inn, and how to stand up for herself. They’d both taken her in, pleading her case to Geppetto that first, stormy night, and had helped her to become the woman she was today. Because of them, Emma knew what it felt like to have a brother and sister.

Blood was not the only thing that bound people together as family.

“I’d love to hear how you three met… and what you’ve been up to all these years.”

Emma thought about how best to explain everything. “I guess it’s probably best if I start at the beginning.” Everything was connected, anyway. She turned back to her parents. “After I left the ball, I bought passage onto a trading ship…”

Being prisoners, none of them had anywhere to go. They had nothing but time, which worked out well since Emma’s explanation of where she’d been and all that had happened dragged deep into the night.

Apart from the occasional question, her parents didn’t say much. They were silent as she explained of her travelling to Tortuga and the years spent growing up in the port town. Her mother frowned a bit when she talked about how she made a living – _“A barmaid is not an acceptable profession for a princess”_ – but really seemed to take a liking to August and Ruby, especially after hearing what all they’d done to help her.

Predictably, her father was the one to look uncomfortable when Hook came up; almost two decades apart had done nothing to dampen that naturally-protective, fatherly instinct. Emma focused on the high parts, skimming through the rest of the time they’d spent together both in the Enchanted Forest and in Neverland partly because she didn’t want her parents know about the true nature of their relationship and partly because thinking about the pirate still caused her heart to twinge.

As it turns out, her parents were great listeners.

They looked shocked at all the right moments – the journey to Neverland, being saved by the pixies, and the ambush after returning to Tortuga…

Indignantly angry at all the right moments – the attempted assassination, Graham’s forced enslavement, and Hook’s deal with the queen…

Sad at all the right moments – forgetting her memories in Neverland, the revelation of the curse, and her eventual capture…

And when everything was said and done, when there was nothing more to explain, her mother gently smiled and ran the backs of her fingers across Emma’s cheekbone while her father squeezed her hand. Something flooded her chest at that, like blood rushing back to a limb too long constricted, both exquisite and painful in its intensity.

Their forgiveness was like a balm.

And Emma realized that, despite all that had transpired, bonds of love are not easily broken.

Six days later, nothing had changed. They were still alone in the dungeon apart from the person that showed up three times daily to deliver food. With nothing else to do during that time, Emma was brought up to date on everything that had happened in her absence. She learned how the kingdom had searched far and wide for her, how the royal armies had repeatedly battled Regina’s forces, and how her parents had never given up hope of her return.

Time passed slowly, but Emma’s mind whirled. The deadline of the curse drew ever closer – a little over a fortnight now remained until her birthday – but they’d seen neither hide nor hair of Regina since their imprisonment.

It wasn’t until the evening of the seventh day that she showed up. No clicking heels or guards announced her coming presence as they had before. This time, Emma and her companions were startled from their evening meal by a sudden cloud of smoke that disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared to reveal the queen.

“How’s the happy family doing? I trust your reunion has been pleasant.”

As they leapt to their feet, dinner abandoned, Emma wanted nothing more than to wipe that smarmy look off her face. Incensed, she stormed to the front of her cell, accidentally kicking her glass and sending it spinning into a nearby corner. Her knuckles turned white as she tightly gripped the bars.

“Why are you keeping us in here?”

Regina’s calm expression was almost as infuriating as her façade of pleasantness. “Eager to die, are we?”

“I’m ready for something. I’d be willing to chance my bare hands against your magic at this point.” Far too many nights had passed since her initial capture; far too many sleepless nights spent wondering if today would be the day she’d die. It was enough to drive any person to madness. Eyes narrowing, Emma spoke harshly. “What are you waiting for?”

“The perfect moment.”

Ruby moved closer to the confrontation in the middle cell. “Seems to me like one day is as good as the next.”

“I doubt any perfect moment will just miraculously happen.” August continued the thought.

The queen slowly looked to the brother and sister before drifting back to Emma. “No, you’re right; no ideal time will present itself of its own accord. That’s why I’m creating my own perfect moment.” She clasped her hands like a child explaining the rules of a game. “On the eve of your birthday, everyone in the kingdom will be gathered to the main courtyard, and while we stand before all of them, I’ll rip out your heart and crush it. And you…” Regina turned to Snow and Charming with a wicked smile. “You two will be forced to watch your only daughter die before I kill you as well.”

Knowing that she would likely be killed was one thing; hearing exactly how it would be done was another.

Emma reeled with a sudden sense of vertigo. Voices – her friends’, her family’s, her enemy’s – echoed through the dungeon but sounded muddled and distant through the fog in her mind. All she could feel and hear was the past as it slipped through her veins, beneath her skin, as much a part of her as her blood. Everything boiled down to choices.

Regina had made a choice, the results of which caused a curse with Emma.

Emma had made a choice, the results of which caused a journey with Hook.

But long before any of that…

Hook had made a choice, the results of which caused an eventual deal with Regina.

And, in the end, it was funny how everything was brought full circle.

Too many choices. There were too many decisions made over the years, and they all intertwined and connected and brought everyone’s lives together in such a strange way that, really, fate _had_ to be involved. Good choices… bad choices… but whose was it that really started it all? Was it possible for only one choice to have set everything into motion, or was it a culmination of all of them?

So much time spent running – chasing after love and anger and hate and revenge and freedom.

So much time wasted.

But then, emotions were a strong thing… some stronger than others. And when all a person feels are such strong emotions, when that’s all that drives them, it can cause the world to narrow and make a person think of only one outcome.

Sometimes it’s hard to judge when a person is stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

The world gradually came back into focus, the tiled walls and flickering lights sharpening. Then, the volume increased, voices distinguishing themselves once more instead of blurring together. And with no idea of what was even being discussed anymore, Emma spoke.

“Why wait until the curse is so close? Why not just get it over with?”

The voices ceased, and in the silence, she could almost hear her mother’s quiet whimper. Regina, however, just considered her for a moment. “Yes, I could kill you sooner. I could have everything ready by tomorrow, if need be, but I’d rather wait. The more time all of you spend down here, the more hopeless you’ll feel. And the more hopeless, the more depressed, the more utterly miserable you and your family feel… the happier I feel. Plus, it’s more dramatic waiting until the end, don’t you think?”

“You should know better than to think that we’ll give up.” Her father’s voice was a pillar of strength against the queen’s cruel sentiment, giving courage to all the prisoners.

“We’ll continue to fight you until our last breath.”

Regina’s face shifted from a wicked smile to a frown and from a frown to a glare that moved to each of them in turn.

“Even if you kill us, there will be others that come along that are just like us.”

“And in the end, the people will never accept you. Not how you are.”

“I don’t need them to accept me, but they _will_ respect me!” Regina had finally had enough. “I’ll kill all of you and then everyone in this god-forsaken kingdom will know without a doubt who rules them. They dared to defy me once before, but this time you two won’t be around to rally them into action. None of you will.”

“Our people won’t stand for it. They don’t need us to fight back.”

“ _Your_ people?” The queen’s laugh at Snow’s words was pure malice, crept across Emma’s skin like a snake. “Your people don’t stand a chance. If they defy me, I’ll dispose of them; I’ll make examples of them. How much blood to be spilled will be up to them and their defiance, but eventually they _will_ recognize me as their queen.” Regina ceased her pacing and stared at a far wall, her face almost hidden. “They called me the Evil Queen in the past. After your deaths, let them test me once more… let them resist me so I can show them just how cruel I can be. Then, when it’s all said and done, they’ll look back on that time before and think how I could have been considered merciful compared to now.”

The Evil Queen of the past versus the Evil Queen of today… which was the lesser of the two evils? Emma watched as Regina composed herself, didn’t speak until she’d turned to face the cells once again.

“You may be able to bend people to your will, Regina, but you can’t force respect and honor… not if you want the authentic emotion. If you force people, you may think you’re getting respect, but it’ll be a farce.”

“It’s easy enough if you crush all their hopes.”

“There’s always hope.”

Regina moved to stand at the cell, only a couple feet separating her from Emma’s mother. “Only in fairytales, Snow.” Leaning in, she whispered the words. “And when I kill your daughter, you’ll realize this is no fairytale and that the only happy ending… will be mine.”

And with the threat still hanging in the air like a palpable thing, the Evil Queen stepped back and raised her hand. Smoke began to billow from the tiled floor to surround her feet and creep up her legs. Before long, she would disappear in the same magical manner she’d unexpectedly arrived, which meant Emma had only moments to…

“Go ahead and underestimate us – underestimate me.” The smoke’s progress halted. “Do it.” Regina’s eyes narrowed to match Emma’s own, their mutual glares heated. “I dare you.”

The smoke continued to circle the queen’s calves, swirling but not advancing, the only thing moving after the issued challenge. Despite the distance between them, Emma could see the way her eyes darted back and forth to each of Emma’s. Then Regina’s glare softened and turned scornful, the judgment crawling deep under Emma’s skin.

“You may act brave… you may _think_ you’re brave… but how brave will you be when I hold your heart in my hand? Will you still maintain this false act of bravado as I crush it before your eyes?”

The smoke resumed its movement, enveloping her body. The last thing Emma saw was Regina’s malicious smirk before the queen disappeared entirely. When the smoke cleared, a pressure she hadn’t even realized was in the air dropped, leaving it far easier to breathe than before – something else Emma hadn’t noticed.

Regina was right. What hope did they have? Trapped, imprisoned, there was little she could do to stop the coming events, much less battle a magic-user. She was powerless; her show of defiance an act. And all the while, the future loomed, and Emma quailed in her secret heart.

“If only I could kill her…”

Her mother’s sudden movement was unexpected, her hands reaching through the bars to grasp Emma’s upper arms fiercely and pulling her to face them.

“Don’t say that, Emma!”

Previously wide eyes narrowed in confusion and mild annoyance at her mother’s words. “You heard what Regina just said – she’s going to rip my heart out and crush it in front of the entire kingdom. Everyone… you… and Dad… everyone I love will have to watch. I think I’m completely justified in trying to find a way to kill her.”

Her voice was thick with sarcasm, but her mother was unaffected. Emma’s eyes slid past Snow to settle on her father. Out of the two of them, he’d always been the one more likely to rise and fight, her mother often preferring a peaceful avenue, so she’d expected him to be in agreement. Which was why she was even more shocked when he simply looked at her with an expression much the same as her mother’s and spoke to her softly.

“When you kill another person, it leaves you broken; some people can handle that brokenness better than others. I don’t think you were made to kill people, Emma.”

The memory of wooden shafts embedded in a group of pirates floated through her mind; the feeling as she’d helped dispose of the bodies the next day floated through her heart.

But…

“We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Her mother’s preternaturally soft voice did its best to calm Emma’s rough nerves, but she refused to let it quell her frustration. More choices…

“Yeah, I can either kill her and live or not kill her and die. That’s not much for options.”

Snow’s eyes were sad, boring into hers with a kind of melancholy distress. “You could kill her? You truly think that you could kill Regina?” And Emma thought of all the evil things the queen had done, the people she’d killed, the lives she’d ruined.

“Yes.”

_Maybe…_

“There’s a big difference between believing you can do something and actually going through with it.” Emma looked to her father once more. Slowly – almost reluctantly – she pulled free of her mother’s arms, side-stepped to stand directly in front of Charming.

“But you’re the one that always told me that I could do anything.”

And indeed, he had. Her mother had spent years insisting on a quiet, selfless princess, while her father had tried to instill bravery and courage in her. For most of her life, she’d often believed that she could only be one or the other – selfless or brave. But could a person be truly self-sacrificing without being brave? Wasn’t it an act of courage to give up selfish thoughts for the good of others?

Perhaps selflessness and bravery weren’t very different after all.

Perhaps breaking herself with an act of murder was worth the lives she would save.

“If the moment presents itself, it’s something I have to do.”

Emma searched her father’s eyes, searched for even just a hint of agreement, but came up short. There was nothing in his gaze but despondency and worry. They looked at each other in silence, and Emma absentmindedly thought of how strange it was to be able to look directly into his eyes. When she’d run away, the top of her head barely brushed his chest; now, they were the same height.

“And I wonder if you think the sacrifices are worth it?”

Her mother was ever honorable.

Emma breathed in deeply and thought about how innocent she used to be, how naïve. She could remember running across the palace lawns, the summer grass tall and swishing against her legs. The smell of mountain laurel was thick in the air, the occasional blossom falling from the nearby trees. The breeze pushed her hair to stream out beside her, carried her joyful laughter through the air, and pulled her parents amused exclamations back to her as they played tag all afternoon.

“I don’t know.”

Emma was surprised at the way her mother’s face shifted at her solemn words. Something worked its way over to quirk the corners of her mouth, swept up to lift the darkness from her eyes, even travelled over to lighten her father’s expression. Warm hands lifted to affectionately cup her cheeks, and the smile that spread across her mother’s face was infectious despite the circumstances.

“You have turned out to be exactly the type of woman I always hoped you would be, and I’m so proud to be able to call you my daughter.”

Emma blinked, feeling very stupid as her mind vainly trying to catch up to the sudden change in the conversation. “Um… so now you’re… happy that I’m going to try to kill Regina?”

“No, silly – I’m happy that you’re so obviously reluctant to do so.” It was almost disappointing that, despite the attempts to mask her true feelings on the matter, her parents were still able to see through her attempted determination to the hesitancy beneath. Hook had told her she was an open book; perhaps he was more right than she’d believed. “I was so worried that you would kill her without hesitation, that you wouldn’t give a second thought to the act you were committing, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“What?”

Emma was many things, but a willful murderer wasn’t one of them; although, the fact that her parents had wondered was understandable. After all, she had spent the last sixteen years in Tortuga and almost two years aboard a pirate ship, neither of which could typically boast good morals.

Her father’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, a comfortable and familiar weight. “There’s also a big difference between doing something because you want to and doing something because you have to. But hopefully you won’t have to worry about killing Regina because there’s another way to stop the curse.”


	17. A Man Reborn

_“And people change as much as oceans.”_

* * *

Moonlight shone through the windows on the far wall, creating jigsaw patterns with the frames of the panes on the floor. The past few days had been some of the warmest they’d experienced in Neverland, which meant that tonight Killian only used a light sheet, the heavier blanket he normally enjoyed hanging haphazardly off the end of the bed. Utterly relaxed, the gentle swaying of the Jolly Roger worked at lulling him to sleep as effectively as the light stroking of fingers down his back and through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He stared – almost trance-like – at the swaths of moonlight and tilted his head forward a few inches to press his lips to the smooth skin of the shoulder in front of him. The responding sigh sent warm breath across his chest, and caused a smattering of goosebumps to break out over his skin. Pulling back slightly, he sent a sideways glance to the woman wrapped in his arms.

Her head was tucked to his chest and eyes closed, although not in sleep. One arm was thrown across his waist while the other snaked through the small space created by his crooked arm that propped his head up. No, she wasn’t asleep yet, but if her slowing breaths were any indication, she would be soon.

Emma was no doubt exhausted.

Then again, he _had_ kept her up for most of the night. In his defense, though, he hadn’t had the best of days.

_The picture was destroyed; waterlogged and smudged beyond all recognition. What was once a beautiful depiction of Milah was now a useless scrap of canvas with indecipherable swirls of charcoal. Even still, he laid it out on his desk, took a seat, and proceeded to try and drink himself into oblivion._

_The crew could manage without him for the rest of the day. After all, there were plenty of things to do aboard the Jolly Roger in the aftermath of the storm. There were also plenty of things he could be doing to straighten up his cabin, but all his responsibilities could go to bloody hell for the moment because the rum hadn’t yet wiped away the memories or numbed the pain. Although, by the time those wishes were fulfilled, he’d likely be incapable of doing much of anything._

_He had no idea how much time had passed, but he was almost finished downing his sixth flask when the door slammed open, the loud crack as it connected with the wall making him wince._

_“What the hell are you doing?”_

_The entire world seemed to lag just a bit when he turned to the vexed princess in the doorway. But just as soon as he’d managed to get her form into focus, he lost her as she stalked around the room. Rather than try to follow her movements, he found it far easier to lower his eyes back to the motionless wood of the desk._

_“You should be up helping your men repair the ship – or at the very least cleaning up this mess and covering the broken window. Not getting drunk.” The flask disappeared from his fingers. “How many of these have you had?”_

_His fingers opened and closed rhythmically into the space where the flask had been. If the unsteady swirl of the room was any indication… “One too many, most likely.” But, really, total inebriation had been the goal._

_Emma snorted, unamused, and tossed the flask onto the couch. “Stupid pirates.” It was harder to hear with her back turned, but he caught the muttered words nonetheless._

_“You sound awfully condescending for someone that has been saved by pirates on more than one occasion.”_

_“And you sound awfully haughty for someone that’s so drunk he can’t keep a good hold on his liquor.”_

_Killian looked down to see that, indeed, he’d spilled rum on himself at some point. So did that make it six flasks he’d consumed or only five? Deciding to ignore the wet stain on his upper thighs and crotch, he found Emma rummaging through one of the drawers that contained his clothes._

_“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you’re telling me off?”_

_She paused to give him a glare that might have made him pause had he not been so far gone. Oh, who was he kidding? Her glares never stopped him. “You’re ridiculous.” Then she was tossing a fresh pair of pants across the room to him. “And you need to change.”_

_The smirk pulled at his mouth, unbidden. He couldn’t help it; not when she made it all too easy. “Just couldn’t wait to get me out of my clothes, hm? No need to deny it, love. I understand.” He looked at her suggestively to emphasize his point, but her voice was thick with sarcasm when she responded._

_“Oh yes, Hook… you know I can’t resist you.”_

_Leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms behind his head, he did his best to appear nonchalant. “That’s certainly how it seemed the other night.” Redness flooded her cheeks just as he’d predicted. “As I recall, you were more than eager.”_

_Emma’s typical eye roll response was cut short when he suddenly stood and crossed the space between them, moving quite well despite his drunkenness. A startled exclamation cut through the air as she backpedaled, but he had her caged within his arms in only a moment. She struggled vainly – he could tell she wasn’t really trying – when he pulled them together and kissed her. It was only when she started to relax into him and deepen the kiss of her own accord that he pulled away, swiftly stepped around her, and retrieved the flask she’d thrown on the couch._

_“What the hell?”_

_But he didn’t pay her any mind, just unscrewed the cap and took a long draught of rum. She was silent as he drank. Even after he’d replaced the cap and moved back to the desk, she took a while to speak._

_“Alright, spill. What’s going on?” Killian had never been one for bartering, but he’d bet that, if he looked up right then, she’d have both arms crossed and eyebrow cocked. “You’re acting strange… it’s not like this is the first storm we’ve weathered, so what’s with the drunken extravaganza?”_

_Some people knew of his past before becoming Hook – mostly individuals he wanted dead._

_More people knew him as the pirate captain of the Jolly Roger – although they didn’t know much more than what his reputation allowed._

_Only a select number of people knew him as a person – many of whom were now dead._

_Emma Swan was the only person that fit into all three categories. She knew of his past, she knew of his present persona, and she knew him. That was the reasoning in his mind as he pushed the ruined drawing across the desk in her direction. Her steps were slow and slightly hesitant, and he waited until she’d picked up the canvas to inspect it before speaking._

_“It was a picture… a drawing of her.” It went without saying who ‘her’ was. “Most of her things have been lost or ruined over the years. That was the last thing I had.”_

_In a fit of rage and anguish, he’d tossed most of Milah’s clothes and belongings overboard after her death. It was something he only partly regretted through the years because, as much as he missed her, he didn’t like to remember the way he’d collapsed to the floor and buried himself in the fabrics that still faintly smelled of her that first night. It was a moment of weakness and vulnerability he couldn’t afford to repeat._

_“When the window broke, it rained quite a bit in here. Needless to say, charcoal and water don’t play well together.”_

_Carefully, Emma lowered the picture back to the desk before moving around the furniture to stand in front of him. Still seated in the chair, he finally looked up to her. She looked so sad… but it wasn’t pity for his situation but genuine sorrow for his loss. Eyes still trained on hers, he pushed the chair away from the desk and turned to face her, their knees very nearly touching. In some of their earlier times together, Emma had been fairly shy; however, she’d lost that inhibition before too long as they explored and learned each other inside and out. That’s why it was almost endearing the way that hesitation returned as she stepped forward, straddled his legs, and lowered herself to sit on his lap._

_They never broke eye contact as her hands came up to rest on his shoulders and his hand and hook settled at her waist. Absentmindedly, his thumb moved, working its way under the hem of her shirt to stroke the soft skin underneath. At his touch, she shifted, easing forward, drawing closer to him. Giving in to the welcome distraction and the feeling of her pressed against him, Killian felt himself harden, responding to the contact. His breath hitched and pulse quickened, eyes dropping to her mouth before closing altogether._

_And when he felt the slight pressure of her lips on his, it captivated and ensnared every part of him. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, but continued to move slowly, unrushed. Her hips rocked against his slightly as his hand slid up her side, thumb reaching out to brush the hardened peak of her breast. As he fondled her, he only barely recognized the way her hands had left his shoulders to work at the laces of his pants._

_She leaned back and quietly whispered. “Killian.”_

_He was struck, then, by a memory so strong it nearly left him breathless… of him on the same ship, in the same cabin, in the same chair, getting ready to do the same thing he was with Emma. And when he looked up, the golden hair around her face grew dark and curly, hazel eyes’ deepening to a solid brown, and it was almost like she – Milah – was there. But then the Milah who was not really Milah reached out to touch his cheek._

_“Come back to me.”_

_The vision faded to reveal Emma. The look in her eyes sent a jolt through him, along with a strange and distant emotion he hadn’t felt in centuries._

_At the realization, his movements sharpened, and she quickly adopted his newfound urgency. Within moments, he was free from the restrains of his pants and her skirts were pushed out of the way. Then she was lowering onto him, guiding him into her, and he was so overcome by the sensations that the pain didn’t even register when his head thumped against the back of the chair._

_Emma Swan was perfection incarnate._

_The feel and smell and taste of her brushed away the hurt better than any rum ever could._

_She moved over him, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Most of the time, he enjoyed taking control, willfully fighting her for dominance, but this time he was content to let her set the pace, for her to do what she would. His hook still sat at her waist, but his hand roamed; it palmed her breast through her shirt, ghosted over her décolletage, and eventually settled for cupping the back of her neck. Never ceasing her undulations, she leaned forward to suckle at the sensitive area beneath the line of his jaw that was exposed by the way his head was inclined to the headrest._

_It was hard to label exactly what it was about Emma that made her so… so… he couldn’t even properly define what she was because she was everything. She was the gentle rain on a garden and the thunderstorm that echoed in the mountains. She was the light breeze through a wheat field and the hurricane that swept the seas. She was the flickering candlelight and the roaring blaze. She was the bright sun and the clear night sky._

_And she was his._

_His release came suddenly, coming up to claim him in shuddering, jerking movements, and she moaned into his mouth when his lips found hers. Caught up in the moment, he hadn’t even taken the time to attend to her, but the slight pulse of her walls against him assured him that she’d found her own release as well._

_Her hair slipped through his fingers, settled in a curtain around their faces. Gradually, their pants turned to steady breaths, but the relaxed appearance was only on the exterior. It was like a fire had been lit inside Killian; instead of feeling content and enjoying the post-coital glow, he felt restless. It was as if he hadn’t even finished, and he burned with desire for her once more – only, this time, he didn’t want her slow and unhurried._

_Not knowing any of the thoughts running through his mind, Emma moved as if to stand, but he wasn’t having that. Impulsively, he wrapped his arm around her waist and stood, picking her up and setting her on the desk. He slipped out of her warm wetness during the process, but was already ready to take her once more. She clung to him, legs wound around his hips, and to her credit, she didn’t seem overly startled by the sudden movement, simply went with the motions._

_“Lay back, love.” Pressing a hand to her chest, he lightly pushed her down to the surface of the desk. “I’m not finished with you yet.”_

_He waited just long enough to rid them both of their clothes before taking her again. But this time, there was no allowing her control. He needed this – needed to lose himself in her. And he did, thrusting into her until his own thoughts spun out of control and she was very nearly whining his name. His fingers dug into her hip hard enough to leave a bruise as he held her at the edge of the desk and drove into her. Only once they’d both found their release for a second time and he’d collapsed onto her did he move to touch her anywhere else, his fingers reaching out to lightly trace her ear._

_“Are you ok?”_

_Emma’s voice was soft in the growing darkness of the cabin, and there was only a slight pause before he answered. “Yes.” Because, in that moment with Emma, he was. Everything was fine. Everything was always better when he was with her._

_Straightening, he carried her to the bed. They wrapped themselves around each other so snugly that it was almost impossible to tell where Killian ended and Emma began, and that was where they remained._

As the moon lowered from its zenith and drew closer to the horizon, its light gradually crept into Emma’s hair. The golden blonde tresses turned to a silvery ash color, reminding him of the star flowers he’d introduced her a few days back – or was it weeks? Native to Neverland, the flowers remained closed during the day, only blooming at night. Their petals were a deep, midnight blue when closed, but opened to reveal an iridescent and shimmering silver that mimicked the stars. He’d figured she’d like them. He’d been right.

She shifted in his arms, turning more onto her back and inclining her face to his. A furrow worked its way between her eyebrows as she stared at him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

It would be easier if he didn’t have quite so many. He almost thought about brushing her concern away and insisting they sleep, but she had that persistent look that he knew from experience meant she wouldn’t drop the subject.

“Do you think good men are born or made?”

It wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting to come out, and from the looks of it, Emma was surprised by the question as well. Her eyes drifted from his, only returning when she’d formulated her response. “I think a man can be as good as he wishes himself to be.”

It was somewhat vague, but true.

“I’m not a good man.” Too much hurt and too much anger. Too many lives lost and lives wasted.

“Well, you’re not a bad man, by any means.”

“Then I obviously haven’t told you enough stories of my past, love.”

The spot on his waist where her hand had been felt cold when it moved away, but the brush of her fingers against his face was just as nice so he really didn’t mind. She cupped his cheek, lifting up to press a lingering kiss to his lips before tucking her head under his chin.

“It doesn’t matter what you try to shock me with. In the end, I think you’re a good man to whom some very terrible and very tragic things have happened. Bad things always happen, but the heart of life is good. Your heart is good.”

* * *

The swirling muck oozed around his legs, pulled at his boots, and did its very best to unbalance him. Dangling vines looped down to brush against his body, sometimes catching on his sword. An unnatural fog crept along the ground, effectively hiding where the land ended and mud began. There was no movement, no wind, and no noise other than the pirates. The quiet was a tangible thing that pressed down on his ears, and he’d never before noticed how silence could have a volume all its own.

Killian Jones had had more than enough of the god-forsaken swamp.

The villagers from the last town they passed through had called it the Swamps of Sadness, which made sense seeing how it certainly wasn’t a cheerful place. When they’d learned that Killian and his crew were planning on travelling through it, they’d insisted on other, safer routes, but there was no time to waste. The clock continued to count down the time until Emma’s thirtieth birthday.

He still had no idea whether or not she was even alive. Would he know when she died? Would the sky darken and his heart ache with the loss of her? Unlikely… for all he knew she was already dead. Even still, he refused to give up. With the dagger in hand, he had leverage against the Dark One, leverage he would use to forge an alliance. Then, he would journey back to Emma, hopefully in time to save her life.

And if he was too late, he’d kill the Evil Queen instead.

Although, if he was being completely honest, he might do that either way.

The thought of Emma made him sad. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of one good moment they’d shared, even though he knew there were countless happy times. Instead, all he could envision was her being tortured, chained and whipped like the huntsman. Or dying, bright red blood seeping out onto cobblestones, snaking away from her body in little rivers through the cracks. Or already dead, face pale and eyes glassy as dust from her crushed heart floated down to settle on her prone form.

It was the swamp… it had to be.

While longer, the safer routes mentioned by the villagers would have taken them around the outskirts of the wetland. Going through it meant subjecting oneself to their melancholy power. Killian had brushed off the elders’ warnings, but now, with nothing more than horrid thoughts of death in his mind, Killian began to consider whether or not it had been wise to brave the swamps. It was difficult to tell how long they’d been walking, but it felt like forever.

Carefully, he stepped up and out of the mud and onto solid ground and took a deep breath. The swamp was depressing enough on its own, but when in the water, the bad thoughts tended to be worse, as if the water itself was magical. Now, Killian found it much easier to think. Craning his head, he spied a lighter shade in the ever-present grey, and relief washed over him as he recognized it as the end of the swamp.

The squelching of his men taking their last few steps through the swamp continued to sound until…

“Cap’n!”

The shout cut through the unnatural silence, and Killian turned to see Smee stuck calf-deep in the swamp. Of course they couldn’t make it all the way through without incident because that would be too easy. To make matters worse, in just the few short steps it took to reach him, the pirate had sunk another couple inches.

“Smee, you worthless…” He grabbed for a fallen limb as Starkey, Jukes, and Mullins climbed out of the swamp to stand beside him. “What were you thinking about?”

The man grabbed hold of the extended limb. “I’m sorry, Captain; I couldn’t help it. I just started thinking about how we would be lucky to get out of this alive and then couldn’t stop.”

“Well, stop thinking about that drivel right now. We’ve spent three centuries in Neverland. We just survived a run-in with a giant and its goose. I’ll walk the bloody plank myself before any of us die now.”

Not when he was so close.

They pulled, each of his men lending their weight to fight the power of the swamp, but even though Smee ceased sinking, he didn’t come free either. Perspiration broke out across Smee’s forehead and Killian’s teeth clenched tightly in frustration.

“Smee, you better start thinking some happy thoughts if you ever want to see the clear sky again…”

They continued to struggle, but then, unbelievably, Smee sunk an inch.

Then another inch.

And another.

The swamp now covered the pirate’s knees, and he let out a frightened shout as it crept even higher. Killian had no idea what it would be like to drown in the swampy muck, but he’d be damned if he gave up on any member of his crew. Muscles taut, he strained against the swamp’s pull, did his best to ignore the way the water was now mid-thigh.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a small explosion accompanied by a flash of light a couple feet from Smee, and the pirate came loose of the swamp with a loud, sucking sound to fall onto the solid ground. Immediately, Killian was on his feet and turning to face a group of men that had appeared behind them, unnoticed, during the struggle.

“I’ve found it easier to get out of the swamp if you’re startled out of your thoughts completely. With nothing in your mind, there’s nothing for the swamp to hold on to.”

It was the man that stood slightly ahead of the rest that spoke. Outfitted in a cream shirt and dark green vest and pants with a bow and quiver looped across his chest, he seemed familiar. The man crossed his arms and offered a good-natured smile, but Killian’s hand drifted to the hilt of his cutlass nonetheless.

He thought back to the fancy distraction. “You don’t look like a magic-user.”

“That’s because I’m not. It’s only tricks; nothing more than a combination of the right kind of powder and fire.”

“Hm… then who _would_ you be, mate?”

“Robin Hood. And if you don’t mind, I’d rather wait until we’re well out of the swamp before we discuss anything else. This place doesn’t exactly sit well with a person.”

Robin Hood – legendary thief and savior to the needy. Steal from the rich and give to the poor. Killian had heard quite a bit about him and his band of men during those first few years back in the Enchanted Forest, but he’d only seen him once as a participant in an archery tournament in Camelot.

Killian debated for a moment, but there wasn’t much else he and his men could do. Their only other option was to travel back through the swamp, which wasn’t going to happen. So with a slight nod, he followed Robin and his Merry Men – he vaguely remembered the term – out of the last bit of the marsh and into clean air and sunlight. Being removed from the stagnant air had an instantaneous effect on everyone; the heaviness lifted, it was easier to breathe, and it even went so far as to bring some color back to the pallor of his crew’s skin.

“Now, how about we go back to my camp and chat.”

The fact that the bow previously around his chest was now in his hand didn’t escape Killian’s notice. Neither did the way the thief’s men moved to surround them and cut off any chance of escape. Killian played at nonchalance, brushing away bits of debris and mud that had stuck to his pants.

“Are we going to talk or are you planning to kill us?”

The corners of Robin’s mouth twitched. “Talk… for now. I’ll decide whether or not to let you live after that.”

With that, Killian and his crew were ushered forward. It wasn’t far to the camp – a few minutes tops – and then they were standing before the remains of a campfire. Some of the bandits moved to sit around the ashes, not caring at all about their visitors, and unsure of what else to do, Killian moved to follow them only for his arm to be caught by a new individual.

“Your men can stay here, but Robin wants to speak to you in private. If you will…” The man gestured to a nearby alcove among the tents.

Resolutely, Killian crossed his arms and refused to budge. One of the keys of being so adept at surviving was knowing the situation. He wasn’t going anywhere – especially alone – until he knew a little more about what was going on.

“They’ll be fine. If they behave, we might even feed them.” At the mention of food, his men straightened. They were all hungry, including Killian.

“And you expect me to trust the word of a nameless bandit?”

Immediately, the man held out his hand to shake. “Will Scarlett. Best thief in all the Enchanted Forest. Behind Robin, of course.” Killian’s eyebrow arched at the man’s cocky attitude. “By the way, I believe you dropped this.”

Will looked to Jukes and held up a small, black bag. Jukes looked at the jingling item with a mixture of surprise and confusion as he patted down his torso to find that, indeed, his money pouch was missing.

“How did you…”

With a shrug, Will tossed the bag back to the pirate. “Like I said – best thief in all the kingdoms. Now, you…” He looked back to Killian. “Come with me.”

In the darkened space, Robin sat at a roughly-crafted table cleaning a knife. Ever the pirate, he peeked into the open tents he passed as he made his way to the vacant chair but found nothing of real interest. Perhaps the man really did give all his stolen wealth to the needy. As he settled into the chair, Killian met Robin’s steady gaze with one of his own.

“That’s quite the appendage you have there. I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind it.” The silence was long and awkward. “Not one for small talk, I see. No problem. So what on earth made you decide to tackle the swamps? Few people brave that route, and even fewer make it out alive.”

Killian preferred to not beat around the bush. “I’m on a quest in which time is of the essence. I need to get to Rumplestiltskin’s castle as soon as possible.”

At the mention of the imp’s name, Robin’s gaze turned rightfully wary. “Rumplestiltskin? What business do you have with the Dark One?” Not many people did business with the man, and those that did were usually not the best company.

“My business is my own.” Sensing he wouldn’t get much out of the man by leaving it there, Killian expounded. “But I can say it is in the service of a woman I care about. Meeting with the Dark One may be the only way to save her.”

Robin looked down to the knife he was cleaning. “Or he could simply trick you and she’ll die anyway.”

Killian studied the thief. When he’d made mention of Emma, a brief look had flitted across the man’s face. To anyone else, focusing on cleaning the blade would have been a casual action, but Killian recognized it for what it was – he was hiding something. It would have been convincing had Killian not had over three hundred years of practice doing the same exact thing.

“Do you have a wife?” He made sure to sound casual, even though he already knew what the answer would be. And just as expected, Robin met his eyes.

“Had. I had a wife.” By the way he was struggling to get the words out, she must have only passed recently. “She died giving birth to our son.”

“Then you understand that I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.”

Robin looked down once more to the knife, most likely reigning in his thoughts and emotions. “You think you can trust him and his deals?”

“I have leverage.”

After a moment, the blade was re-sheathed as the thief met his eyes before motioning down the rightmost path. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but if you’re so sure about this, then you’ll find his castle a half day’s journey down that road.”

As it was late, they ended up spending the night with the group of thieves that turned out to be surprisingly cheerful company. Despite the dire circumstances, they ate and drank and swapped stories that, more often than not, ended in eruptions of laughter before falling asleep around the fire. Killian, on the other hand, was up late into the night, kept awake by thoughts of what would happen the next day. Every vision that ended well was immediately followed by another vision that ended poorly. In the end, it was impossible to know how the meeting with the imp would pan out, which caused an uneasy nervousness to settle in his belly. Eventually, though, he too fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken early with a rough shake only to see Robin and an offering of breakfast. It was meager – bread, fruit, and nuts – but would get them started. Then, after gathering their belongings, Killian and his crew stood at the head of the path. A half day’s journey… they’d arrive by noon.

When they reached the first bend in the path that would take them out of sight, Robin’s voice called out. “Be careful, pirate. And good luck.” But Killian only raised his hook in farewell.

True to his word, the group of pirates reached the castle when the sun was high in the sky. It was a dark structure, more sinister looking even than the Evil Queen’s, with jagged towers and gruesomely shaped gargoyles. Not an inviting place, by any means.

But there was no use in turning back now.

Steeling himself, Killian crossed the lawn of dead grass and approached the doors. With one last look over his shoulder to his crew, he raised his hand to the latch on the door… only for it swing open of its own accord. The hinges creaked long and loud in the silence, echoing through the vast, dark foyer before him. It didn’t take a genius to know that the imp already was already of their presence. There would be no sneaking up on him.

He scanned the room to the best of his abilities. The bright sun made the inside of the castle that much darker, and he couldn’t make out much else other than the beginnings of a rug that stretched out of sight and a round table upon which rested a solitary book that sat beneath a hanging chandelier.

Slowly, Killian stepped through the doorway. Since it was a magician’s palace, it would have been fitting for the lights to flare, objects to fly around the room, and Rumplestiltskin to appear with a puff of smoke in all his crocodile-like glory, but none of that happened. Other than the distant creak of a wooden floorboard, the only sound in the room was Killian’s pounding heart and his breathing; the only person in the room was him.

Placing one foot carefully in front of the other, he moved further into the room. As he scanned his surroundings once more, he caught a glimpse of his crewmembers still standing outside the threshold. A frown crept over his face.

“Get in here, you scoundrels.” But they refused to move, alternatively peering at him and the room behind him. His frown deepened as he turned to face them fully. “If you don’t get your worthless hides in here, I’ll kill you myself once we’re gone.” He held up his hook for good measure.

It was a testament to their fear of him as a captain that they took reluctant steps inside.

Satisfied, Killian turned back to survey the room once more, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. The foyer was more like a grand hallway that stretched out until it met a staircase. Several doors led off the hall – they were all closed – and a banister lined the open second floor. And in the middle of the hall was the table. With only a few steps, he stood before it and stared down at the book.

It was an ancient tome. The leather was dusty and the edges of the pages yellowed and worn. Swiping a hand through the dust revealed the cover to be a yellowish-gold color. A sun-like drawing was situated in the top right corner with lines representing light branching across the rest of the cover. Only upon closer inspection, they weren’t merely lines, but finely penned foreign words. Across the left side, were several more circles – planets, maybe? – all in a vertical line, and across the very bottom was one bold word.

 _Grimoire_.

Cautiously, he lifted the first few pages with his hook, letting them fall back slowly as he took in the contents. All of the words were nonsense to him; he was only able to take in the illustrations on each page. A depiction of a man transforming into a pig, a sketch of a woman staring at a different reflection in the mirror, a scribbled drawing of a fanged beast lunging for a fleeing man…

Killian was still trying to make sense of the book when a high-pitched giggle drifted through the room. Immediately, the noise was drowned out by his men’s lumbering as they searched desperately for the source.

“Quiet.” He hissed to his men, but when they continued to move, he released the last few pages and reached out to grab a fistful of Starkey’s shirt. “Hold still.”

At his hushed command, all of the pirates froze, but Smee’s breath wheezed harshly through his nose. Killian glanced his way; however, Mullins addressed it first. “Could you _breathe_ any louder?”

To Smee’s credit, the noise stopped instantly; although, it was far more likely that the pirate was holding his breath than actually calming himself down. Either way, the silence was better. He released Starkey’s shirt and settled his hand on his hip near the hilt of his cutlass. While it would be no match for the imp’s dark magic, he drew comfort from its familiarity nonetheless.

“Rumplestiltskin.” Killian turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning every surface of the room. But there was nothing to see; only specks of dust that drifted through the few beams of sunlight. “Show yourself.”

“Hello, dearie.”

They all turned in unison to see the figure seated casually on one of the second-story banisters. Crocodile-like skin, scaly outfit, yellowed eyes… Killian’s heartbeat raced at the sight of the man he hated, had waited so long to kill. Rumplestiltskin grinned down at them before pretending to pick at his leather vest.

“I’m surprised to see you, Captain… alive.”

“You shouldn’t be. I told you I’d find a way to kill you.”

With a puff of smoke, the imp disappeared and reappeared in front of Killian. At the sudden proximity, his men retreated a few steps, but Killian held his ground, the cold dagger pressed to his lower back giving him strength.

“You don’t look much older than the last time I saw you. What’s it been… three hundred some odd years, now? I’d ask how you managed it, but I don’t have to. It’s all right there.” One long, slender finger pointed to Killian’s eyes which narrowed in an unspoken question. “Only someone that’s spent a significant amount of time in Neverland has _that_ look.”

“Not everyone can live forever. Some of us have to find more… creative means of survival.”

“Indeed. She would be proud of your ingenuity, I’m sure.” Rumplestiltskin glanced down to Killian’s namesake. “Taking a hook for your lost hand… it seems oddly fitting for a pirate.”

Suddenly angry, Killian slid his left foot back and drew his cutlass, extending it out before him. The conversation was not going at all how he’d planned, but then, there hadn’t been much of a plan to start with. He could handle acquiring the dagger and reaching the castle – he’d never been one to back away from a challenge – but speaking to this man, this imp, this crocodile… that was a different kind of challenge.

Rumplestiltskin’s countenance changed at the sight of the drawn blade. “So what now, dearie? If you’ve finally returned from the cursed land, you must have figured something out? Or did you just give up? No, you’re much too stubborn for that…” The imp issued a small snort of derision as he began to step in a slow circle around Killian. “Three centuries and you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the same avaricious, thoughtless, egotistical pirate you always have been. Such things are a sin, you know; I wonder if you mean to embody them so accurately. Greed for treasure, lust for women, pride in yourself…”

“What can I say – I’m a man of many vices.”

“… wrath for Milah.”

Of all people, Rumplestiltskin had no right to say her name, and as the man completed his circle and came back into view, Killian fixed him with a glare. “Yes, the sin of wrath is one I am intimately familiar with.”

And that familiar anger welled up, tightened his grip on the cutlass, set his heart racing. To hell with the imp and his dark magic… it would only take a couple steps and a quick draw of the dagger; then, he could plunge into Rumplestiltskin’s chest and kill him once and for all. It didn’t matter that he would likely die in the process. He could feel the blood on his hand, could picture the look of surprise on the crocodile’s face, could hear the dying breath.

_“You’re not him, you know. Don’t be Hook when you were meant to be Killian.”_

Milah’s last words from the dream floated back to him, and when he thought of Emma, the righteous fury left as quickly as it had come. The cutlass lowered. He wasn’t here for revenge.

“But that’s not why I’ve come.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve given up avenging her death after all these years.”

There was no rage left in Killian, only the hollow spaces in his bones where it had once lived, gnawing on his marrow for fuel. He would have to settle for Rumplestiltskin’s look of surprise at his words and not a dagger in his heart.

“I have.” His gaze drifted to the floor. “Sometimes I find it hard to believe it myself.” In the end, fate truly was a funny thing. Steeling himself, Killian looked back to the curious, yellow eyes. “I’m here to ask for your assistance.”

A trace of arrogance bled into Rumplestiltskin’s curious expression as a deadly grin pulled at his mouth. “I happen to recall you stealing my wife. Why should I help you?”

“She left you willingly and you know it… but it doesn’t matter anymore. That was long ago and you took what you believed was your due when you killed her.” He swallowed hard at the memory and had to work to find his voice again. “Anyway, I’m not fool enough to come here and ask your help without offering something in return. I’m willing to make a deal.”


	18. A Converging of Fates

_“If this is to end in fire, then we shall all burn together.”_

* * *

Emma had expected some potion or magical incantation that could only be found in some distant corner of the world, locked up tight within a castle and guarded by a virtual sea of enemies. It would have been a race against the clock to escape and travel and battle their way to the one thing that could remedy the situation, the one thing that could save her life.

Instead, it was true love’s kiss.

Something so unassuming, so idyllic, so fairytale-like…

The simplicity – and bleakness – of it all made her feel sick. “That’s it? _That_ was your plan?” Her mother flinched at the scathing tone, but Emma couldn’t find it within herself to care.

“True love’s kiss can break any curse, Emma. You should know that.” Which she did, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow.

It was the very thing that had saved her mother’s life and finally brought her parents together, but she’d never even considered it when contemplating what plan might have been in place since the curse’s initial casting. It almost would have worth it to die in relative ignorance than have all hope dashed because, really, what possibility was there? A person needed their true love to receive true love’s kiss and Emma had no prospects.

“I thought you had something concrete, something that actually had the potential of working!”

“We talked to everyone we could think of to figure something out. We spent years bringing in people from the far corners of the world…”

“And true love’s kiss was the best thing the greatest minds in the realm could come up with?”

“Emma.” The unusually stern edge to her father’s voice cowed her just as much as it had when she was a child. Borderline grudgingly, her eyes slid to his. “There’s no other way to break the curse. There’s no other way to break _any_ curse.”

“It would work, sweetheart. I know it would.” Her mother was painstakingly imploring.

“Even if it would work, who is there for me to kiss? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m short a true love.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. How could that have been their only plan? True love wasn’t just something that could be conjured and created… a person couldn’t be forced to fall in love. Sure, it could happen in an instant, but typically it developed over time. Then Emma very nearly fell to her knees as a revelation hit her and it all made perfect sense.

“The betrothal…” Regardless of already knowing the answer, the question forced its way out. “That’s why you planned the engagement to Prince Philip, isn’t it?”

Her mother’s crestfallen expression confirmed it. “We spent a lot of time meeting other kingdoms’ young princes and their families and looking for common interests and traits that would endear each of you to the other. We figured that, of all the other princes we’d met, you and Philip had the best chance of growing to love each other one day.”

She remembered the young prince and his perfect manners, but had no idea what they might have had in common. An introduction and three dances wasn’t enough time to learn anything about another person.

“With Regina as a constant threat, it was too dangerous to allow you out by yourself. We worried that you wouldn’t be able to meet your true love on your own so we stepped in.”

They stepped in to provide her with someone they thought she could grow to love. She might have found true love on her own over the years… but then again, she might not.

“We were just doing what we thought was best.”

Feelings settling somewhere between irritation and confusion and restlessness, she paced the cell. She needed doors to slam or more room to stomp around. A passing glance to the front of her cell confirmed that the palace staff had already been by to pick up the last of the dishes from the evening meal. Damn it, she didn’t even have anything she could throw.

On one pass, she stalked just a little too close to the bars and Ruby caught her wrist, effectively pulling her from her thoughts. “I know it’s not my place to say, but your parents really did have your best interests in mind… I don’t think you should be so angry with them.”

“I’m not.” And she honestly wasn’t. She was mature enough to understand their predicament and the choices they’d made, even if she couldn’t fully comprehend the natural depth of love a parent feels for a child that would drive them to do whatever it took. “I’m more frustrated than anything.”

“Maybe Hook will come back before… you know.”

What?

The unsuspecting words cut through Emma like a sharp knife. She froze, eyes shooting to Ruby’s. “Why would that matter?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“I just figured…”

“Please, don’t say it’s because he’s my true love.” It was better to stop that line of thinking before it could even take hold because Emma didn’t think she could handle it.

“Actually, I was going to say that, if he came back in time, he might be able to kill Regina and break the curse.” The barmaid sported a playful look much more suited to her personality than the serious expression she’d been wearing. “What made you think I was going to say he was your true love? Guilty conscience? Hmm?”

And just like that, Emma smiled, her mood easing; she never had been able to withstand Ruby’s joking. “Hardly. I was making sure you weren’t getting caught up in all that true love nonsense. I can always count on you, though… you understand stuff like that doesn’t happen to the kind of people that meet in Tortuga.”

But Emma had to work hard at not noticing the way Ruby’s smile turned wistful.

* * *

The words didn’t want to be spoken, lodging in Killian’s throat. It was only at the thought of Emma that they freed themselves and came out. “Anyway, I’m not fool enough to come here and ask for your help without offering something in return.”

Rumplestiltskin arched one brow in expectation.

“I’m willing to make a deal.”

And then the other joined it in a moment of disbelief before they both returned to normal. The imp rested an elbow on a crossed arm, cupping his chin and touching a finger to his lips in deliberation. “I’m listening.”

One last hint of hesitation gnawed at him, twisted his stomach. The moment of truth. There would be no going back because once he made his offer – and if the crocodile accepted it – he would be bound by the deal, forced to return the one thing he’d searched so long for. And after a silent apology to Milah’s memory for letting her go…

“There’s a curse in place that binds King Charming and Queen Snow’s daughter to the Evil Queen. It started out as a curse only on the princess, but was altered to include them both and is now something that can only be broken by one of their deaths. They only have until the princess’ thirtieth birthday to fulfill it, though, or both of them will die.”

“Yes, I know of their unfortunate situation.”

Killian didn’t want to know how Rumplestiltskin knew about the curse when the details of it were something known only to a select group of people. Who knew what all other powers the Dark One possessed… he’d heard rumors that he had the ability to see the future.

“My crew and I plan on returning to save the princess, but we’ll need help against the queen and her magic. That’s where you come in. All we need is for you to keep Regina preoccupied while we get everyone out of there.”

“Preoccupied as in…”

“Kill her, if you can; distract her, at the very least.”

The finger still touched to Rumplestiltskin’s lips tapped a few times. “I know the royal family fairly well, and if the princess is anything like them, she won’t want Regina to die.”

“Well, seeing how she’s not here right now, she doesn’t really get a say in our deal.” It would be easier to leave the terms as they were, but Killian felt obligated to at least mention the other possibility. “We did hear that there may be a way around the curse without either of them having to die. And you’re right – she would prefer them both live – so if you can, stall Regina long enough for us to try and break the curse another way before killing her.”

Killian didn’t enjoy making a deal with the man before him any more than Rumplestiltskin probably enjoyed the thought of risking his life in a magical duel against the Evil Queen. Under any other circumstances, the deal most likely wouldn’t go through, which was why braving the beanstalk, giant, and goose had been necessary. He’d needed to offer something the Dark One couldn’t pass up.

The imp focused on a distant painting before looking back to Killian with a grin. “And in return?”

With practiced ease, Killian sheathed the cutlass without ever breaking eye contact. His fingers crept around to the hilt still pressed to his lower back, wrapping around it and pulling the wavy blade from its makeshift scabbard looped on his belt. Then, keeping a wary eye on the enemy, Killian revealed his barter.

“Your dagger.”

Rumplestiltskin’s smile froze and fell at the sight of the item that should have been hidden away with no hope of being discovered, the only object that was able to harm him. He took one sideways step forward, pointing to the dagger.

“How did you get that?”

Killian was reminded of a snake preparing to strike but remained cool and collected, looking to the blade insipidly. “This? I retrieved it myself. Found it at the top of a beanstalk guarded by a bloody goose.”

“And a giant…” The imp muttered the words to himself, still staring fixatedly at the dagger.

“Aye, there may have been a giant there also.” When Rumplestiltskin took another step forward, Killian lowered his arm, tucking the blade behind his leg and out of sight. Unable to see it anymore, the Dark One’s eyes raised to his. “The dagger for your help – that is my offer. Do you accept?”

The yellow eyes were unnervingly piercing as he ignored the question. “What interest does a pirate have in the princess?” Then, before Killian could even say anything – truth or lie – Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened in a gleeful expression. “You care for her.”

Obscenities erupted in Killian’s mind because the imp was not supposed to have discovered his feelings for Emma. At most, he’d planned on playing their relationship off as mere friendship. “I never…” But he was cut off.

“Don’t lie to me!” The shout rang in the silence of the room. “Her parents would’ve never allowed you near her, so the two of you must have met after she’d disappeared, probably during her time in Tortuga. And I’d say you spent quite some time together, formed a rather strong bond. Was it concern for her that prompted a third visit to Neverland? I know you most likely didn’t want to return there again of your own accord. So what was it that forced your hand? Regina’s assassin, perhaps?”

How the bloody hell did Rumplestiltskin know all of that? Exiled here in a distant corner of world, he should have been cut off from everything else that happened. Instead, he knew everything. Literally.

“Yes, I know of the queen’s misguided attempts to find the princess. I also know that your feelings must be very strong indeed for you to give up something you’ve desired for so long for just one woman. I wonder what Milah would think of your new plaything.”

The beginnings of a headache bloomed right behind Killian’s eyes. The conversation – a wildcard to begin with – had taken a decidedly downhill turn in the past couple minutes. Revealing the dagger was supposed to be the final move in the dangerous game they were playing, but Rumplestiltskin hadn’t reacted as he’d anticipated. Or rather he had, right before he’d turned the conversation back in his favor by pulling Killian’s feelings for Emma into play.

“Yes, I know that look, Captain… although I never imagined I’d see it on your face again. Could it be – dare I say – love?”

Damn it all to hell and back.

He cared for Emma, felt strongly for her, there was no denying it. But he hadn’t yet allowed himself to examine his feelings any deeper than that. Could it be love? Did he really love Emma?

“If you managed to save her, do you think she would take you back after your indiscretion?” Of course the imp would somehow know of his agreement with Regina as well. “And even if she found it in her heart to forgive you, what place is there for a pirate in her life? She’s a princess. She belongs in a castle… and you belong at sea. She’s more likely to cast you aside than welcome you back.”

The taste of blood filled his mouth, warm and coppery. He didn’t even remember biting his cheek, but his tongue pushed at the torn skin. “I guess that’s a chance I’m willing to take. Do we have a deal?”

“What happens if I don’t agree to this little proposal of yours?” Nonplussed, Rumplestiltskin had adopted the annoyingly blithe tone he was known for.

In response, Killian pulled the dagger from behind his leg and fingered the edge of the blade. “From what I hear, this dagger is the only thing that can kill you. I’ve also heard that the person who possesses it can control you to some extent.”

“That might be true, dearie, but without magic, you don’t stand a chance. A flick of my wrist…” Rumplestiltskin demonstrated the action with a smug grin. “That’s all it would take to kill you and take back what is mine.” The grin darkened. “In fact, I think that’s what I’ll do.”

Throughout the entire exchange, his men had been quiet, probably more than happy to blend into the background and not draw attention to themselves. However, at the threat, Killian could hear them begin to shuffle nervously behind him.

“You seem to know so much… I’m surprised you aren’t aware that Belle is alive.” And as he’d hoped, the imp paused, hand still raised in the air.

“What did you say?”

The final playing card was his. “Belle… the woman you love – and yes, I know you love her – is alive.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I assure you, it’s quite possible. I saw her myself, tried to kill her too before I was rudely interrupted. She’s very much alive.”

It was a powerful feeling to have been able to stun the Dark One into silence. His hand slowly lowered even as his lip rose in a mild sneer. The coiled snake retreated along with the crocodile, leaving only a man in its wake – a man that, despite being an evil and nearly immortal sorcerer, was still very much human.

“It’s funny how two men – you and I – can be so different yet so much the same. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to rescue Emma. What will you do for Belle?”

Both men eyed each other. “Where is she?” Rumplestiltskin’s voice had lost its teasing edge, was now deadly serious.

“Regina has her locked away. And for your help, I’ll not only return the dagger, but lead you to her.”

Checkmate.

“So…” Third time’s the charm. “Do we have a deal?”

* * *

“What happened between you and Regina?”

Emma and Snow sat in a shared corner where their cells connected as away from everyone else as they could be, Charming having conceded to give them some mother-daughter time. They faced each other, legs curled underneath them and shoulders pressed to the wall.

“It was a long time ago… we were both so young then.” A faraway look passed over her mother’s face as she pulled out the memory. “We first met when Regina saved my life after my horse had spooked. When my father learned what had transpired, he was grateful, to say the least, and decided to show his appreciation by way of marriage.”

“That’s quite the thank you.”

“Yes, but I think he was also taken by her. Regina always had been beautiful.”

It was hard to imagine the Evil Queen as a genial young adult willing to save another person. Now, she was all elaborate hair and dramatic outfits and scheming plans and violence. She was beautiful, yes – but it was a cruel beauty. Seeing her rip Graham’s heart out and ruthlessly murder guards placed a somewhat permanent mark against her in Emma’s book.

“One night, though, I came across Regina with another man. His name was Daniel. She told me that they were each other’s true love and that they planned to run away together, and I promised to keep their secret. I’d always been a hopeless romantic.”

Looking to her father, Emma figured that being a romantic wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since that was also what had brought her parents together; that, and a bit of fate and thievery.

“But on the eve of the wedding, Regina’s mother came to me. I hated the idea of Regina losing her mother by running away, so I told her about Daniel and begged her to allow them to be together. I didn’t find out until the next day after the wedding that Cora had killed Daniel after our conversation the night before.”

Tinkerbell had been correct – the source of their dispute had been a misunderstanding.

But it was a grave misunderstanding with dire consequences.

“And so Regina attributes Daniel’s death to me; although, in a way, I really am to blame. If I’d never mentioned anything… who knows, they might have lived happily ever after and never caused any trouble in our lives.”

“If you weren’t on the run, though, you and Dad might never have met. And then I might have been born the daughter of you and some other fancy prince.”

Snow’s lips quirked. “And you might have turned out looking more like me – dark hair and light skin – instead of favoring your father so much.”

“But I also would’ve never been inspired by your love story.” Emma’s heart twisted painfully. That love story, told to her since her infancy, was what had really lit the spark and set the stage for the future. “I might not have turned out so stubborn and willful. I’d have been content to grow up as I was supposed to…”

A proper princess.

“…I might not have run away.”

Emma was the first to break the moment, lowering her eyes to focus on the way her fingers worried a loose thread of her pants. There were those choices again; seemingly trivial at the time, but with widespread effects. Each choice was a drop of rain in a body of water that causes ripples, a slight shift in the snow that causes an avalanche.

“Perhaps… but that’s not what happened. And please don’t think that the blame is entirely yours, Emma.” The thread was abandoned as her mother’s hand settled over her own. “We… _I_ could have handled things far better with you than I did. But, then, I guess that’s the risk with raising children. As parents, we think what we’re doing is in the best interest of our children, but sometimes it’s not.”

“Do you ever regret anything?”

Hearing her mother’s mournful sigh was comparable to watching the last leaf fall at autumn’s end. “I will forever regret not being able to watch you grow up. But that’s enough about me; I want to know what happened between you and your pirate?”

“He’s not my pirate.” Denial was a knee-jerk response. “And I told you what happened.” Although she may have glossed over some of the deeper truths.

“Yes, I remember. You thought he was trying to help save you, but then believed him to be working for Regina.”

“I don’t just _believe_ that, Mother. I know it. He made a deal with her; that’s the only reason he ever took an interest in me.” At least, that’s what her mind continued to insist.

“Maybe at first, but what about everything afterwards? You said it yourself that he saved you on multiple accounts. If he truly wanted to trade you for information and he couldn’t manage to do so in the three years you knew each other, then he’s not a very accomplished pirate.”

“He managed to fool me for that long, so I’d say he’s very much an accomplished pirate.”

The look that stole across her mother’s face after her heated words made Emma instantly wary. “It’s understandable for his betrayal to cut deep, but it’s almost like… well, I think there’s more to you two than you let on.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks of its own accord. “There’s nothing more to tell.” Curse that stupid open book trait…

“I think you two were very close, might have even been committed to each other.” This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her mother. “And I think he cares for you a great deal.”

“He betrayed me…” Her throat tightened at the intimacy of what she’d said. “Us… I meant he betrayed us.” Desperately, she scrambled to regain her train of thought. “He should have been honest about the deal from the beginning.”

Composed in a way that Emma could only hope to be, her mother pretended to ignore her graceless attempt at smoothing over what she’d inadvertently said. “True, but no one’s perfect. And thank the gods we were created with the ability to forgive.”

They sat in a silence that gradually transitioned from awkward to relaxed, but an uneasy awareness tried to make its way through Emma, burning through her veins. She shifted, turning away to rest her back fully against the wall and stare out into the emptiness of the dungeon. It was easier to push thoughts away when she couldn’t see her mother’s knowing smile.

“Love can show up in the most unlikely places… and between the most unlikely people.”

Emma’s heart tripped an odd rhythm.

“I’m not in love with Hook.”

“Hmm…” The noncommittal hum wasn’t convincing. “The thing about love is that you don’t get to choose, it just happens. You end up getting a person who’s all wrong and all right at the same time. And you know you love them, even though sometimes they do things that drive you completely crazy… or hurt. In the end, no one can explain it. And the reason it’s all so confusing is because it’s love. Besides, if love didn’t have challenges, what would be the point?”

The silence welled up again.

When she was a child, she would gaze at the floors of the palace and try to find shapes in the natural whirls within the marble. Sometimes – if she squinted – there would be an indistinct impression of an object, but more often than not, there was nothing. Now older and having been exposed to a great number of new things, Emma still couldn’t find a shape in the stone’s natural patterns.

She also couldn’t find a shape in her heart’s pattern.

Would she ever understand the unfailing love two people could have for one another? Would she ever understand the way a person could forgive and forget and move on? Would she ever understand her heart and its constant hunger for what it wanted despite anything her mind might say? Would she ever…

“You think we were in love.”

“I think you could have been, yes.”

“Then, why didn’t the curse break any of the times we kissed before?”

The seconds ticked by as her mother hesitated before she finally settled on ambiguity. “It’s hard to say.”

Emma sighed deeply. “Maybe it’s because we weren’t each other’s true love.”

“Or maybe it’s because you were both reluctant to admit to yourselves that you loved each other.”

That… sounded like them. Obstinate and willfully reluctant; it could be the story of their lives, although for different reasons. It was likely none of them would ever know whether or not true love’s kiss would break the curse since the only person that had any chance whatsoever at fulfilling that role was off somewhere doing whatever vengeful pirates do. And in the silence, the intake of breath was heard easier than her mother’s soft words.

“Love is a funny thing.”

It was also ironically uncalled for and annoyingly persistent and tragically inescapable and…

“I think it’s unfairly complicated.”

“No, sweetheart…” And Emma finally gathered the courage to meet her eyes. “Love is simple. It’s people who are complicated.”

* * *

Nothing, it seemed, could be easy anymore.

After acquiescing to the deal, the Dark One had led them outside to a group of horses, one for each of the pirates, and stated that they should set out then if they hoped to make it to the kingdom in time. It would have been easier and quicker to just magic them to their desired destination, but the imp had a twisted sense of humor.

_“I’ll be waiting for you just outside the town wall. The queen doesn’t plan to kill the princess until the eve of her birthday so you should make it in time… as long as you don’t stop to rest for too long.”_

Then he’d disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke and Killian had done exactly what he’d said – ride relentlessly.

Hooves ate up the earth, pounding as the animal raced down the lane, and the combined effect of the tips of the mane and oncoming wind lashed at Killian’s face and stung his eyes. The horse’s breath came in fast snorts, its skin dark and slick with sweat. Their rests had been brief, not giving the horse time to truly recover, and if he didn’t slow, it was bound to keel over soon.

Leaning back to slow their breakneck speed, he raised his hand to signal a stop. Ten minutes was all they could spare – fifteen at the very most. Killian dismounted, absentmindedly patting the exhausted animal’s neck as he shook out his tired muscles. The initial pain in his arms and legs from the constant riding – it had been many years since the last time he’d ridden – had lessened now to a dull ache.

“How are we doing on time, Cap’n?”

The sun’s position spoke of their progress. “Good for now; although I’d rather not arrive at the last second.” The phrase ‘better late than never’ wasn’t applicable to their current situation.

“Agreed. The horses have had some food and water. I say we cut this break short and then take a longer one tonight.”

Killian turned to glance at one of the most trusted members of his crew. Jukes had been with him since the very beginning, abandoning his commitments to the royal navy to follow Killian into piracy. He’d proven himself time and again, and his comments and opinions were some of the only ones Killian was ever willing to consider.

“Aye, a good idea… tell the men to get ready.” Feeding one last apple to the horse, Killian mounted and turned to his men. “We’ll ride hard until dark and then rest for the night.”

Clods of dirt flew as the animals were spurred into action. They had less than half a day’s worth of sunlight left, but he knew they’d make good time. The road was straight and well-packed which meant they could ride hard and fast, unlike the winding path they’d been on the night before. However, they’d only been travelling for a few minutes when, without warning, another group of men and their horses burst from an adjoining path to the left to block the way, forcing Killian to either ram into them or halt once more. His stallion decided for him, all but skidding to a stop. Hand already reaching for his cutlass, he scanned the men before him.

“Pirate.”

The acknowledgment pulled his sight to a familiar face, and he returned the greeting.

“Thief.” It hadn’t been more than two days since they’d gone their separate ways, but with a depressing swamp and a couple hundred miles between their current position and the woods Robin Hood called home, it seemed unlikely for this reunion to be mere coincidence. “What brings you so far outside of Sherwood Forest?”

“I’ve been looking for you; spent the last day and a half trying to track you down.”

“Miss me, already?”

Robin’s concentrated expression from the near collision shifted into a slight grin. “I’m not one of your damsels, _mate_.” The term brought a similar smirk to Killian’s face. They came from different backgrounds and walks of life, but he couldn’t help but like the thief.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a lass try to follow me. I’ve found if you leave them satisfied, they’re content to leave well enough alone.” And that kind of attitude is what lent to the Casanova-like aspect of his reputation. “On the other hand, I’ve never had anything but trouble try to chase me down. Seeing how you don’t have an arrow pointed at my chest, I’ll take it that’s not what you’re here for.”

“No, I followed you because I know what you’re doing, where you’re going, and why.”

Well, that was unexpected.

Killian took a deep breath. The horse shifted restlessly beneath him, but he held the animal steady while he gauged the situation. It was a mystery as to how word of his journey and Emma’s curse kept spreading… were no secrets safe anymore?

“So, what… you’ve come to stop me?”

He didn’t enjoy the thought of fighting Robin, but if it came down to it, he would.

“What’s getting ready to happen with the Evil Queen might not have a direct effect on us right now, but eventually it will. Personally, I’ve lived enough of my life under evil dictators, so we’re here to help in any way we can.”

That was unexpected, as well.

Killian considered the man and his group of thieves. Easily twenty-five strong, the bandits were expert archers and swordsmen. Any aid would be helpful; theirs would be even more so. “I’m not senseless enough to turn down extra help. Although I can’t help but notice your new addition… have you taken to including Merry Women in your band now?”

Situated in the rear of the group, she was an imposing figure. A toned build led to tanned skin, almond-shaped eyes, and dark hair, all of which was partially hidden under oriental-style, leather armor.

“She’s a friend; a mercenary soldier from the Far East. Trust me, you’ll be glad to have her on your side.” Robin quickly smoothed over Killian’s comment.

“Fair enough.” But something still weighed on his mind… “Although I have to ask – how, exactly, did you find out what’s going on?”

“Let’s just say a little fairy told me.”

A smattering of dust that shimmered like glitter upon Robin’s shoulder drew Killian’s eyes, and a slow smirk of realization pulled at his lips. They might just stand a chance. With a sharp tug, he turned his horse to face down the road once more, tackle jingling slightly as the rest of the group prepared to follow him.

“Try to keep up.”

* * *

The bells tolled.

_Six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

And then a ringing silence.

Eight peals meant eight o’ clock and, right on time, Emma heard the sound of the guards’ marching boots. There was a slight squeeze on her shoulder from August and a half-hearted smile from Ruby, both of which carried the weight of what the evening held. And when she turned around and crossed the cell to her parents, she was almost disappointed to see that same expression on their faces as well. In that moment, Emma needed to see hope… even if it was false hope.

_Give me something to go on…_

Two weeks had passed by in the blink of an eye, which didn’t really make sense considering they’d done nothing but sit in the dungeon. Maybe time flew because there were eighteen years to catch up on. Or maybe the sands of time just fell faster through the hourglass the closer a person got to the end.

Emma didn’t even try to fight when hands pulled her roughly out of a last embrace with her parents, didn’t even make an attempt at resisting when a pair of cold manacles were clamped around her wrists. The guards surrounded her as they marched her out of the dungeons, through the castle, and into the courtyard.

They moved single file through the throngs of people from the kingdom that had been forced to attend. She could feel their stares but kept her eyes trained on the back of the guard ahead of her. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more dismayed expressions. There was a slight brush against her arm that was more than just the motion of her sleeve from walking, and she turned to catch the eyes of a child. No more than six or seven, the girl had reached out to just barely touch her before withdrawing.

Emma maintained the eye contact, caught in the honeyed brown of her eyes, until the girl was lost in the crowd. Only then did she turn back to see the stage.

It was a strange feeling – she’d never planned to greet death so… calmly. While she hadn’t spent too much of her life pondering how she would die, she’d always imagined to go out with more of a bang. Emma wanted to fight for her life. Her mind screamed for someone to at least give her a chance because the fate before her promised a rather unremarkable end.

But then she was being escorted onto the podium to face Regina and it was all too late.

She could make out her parents on the front row. Snow’s eyes were red but dry as she firmly held her husband’s arm. Just behind them stood August, Ruby, and some of the more influential figures in the kingdom. The seven dwarves, Jiminy Cricket, Jefferson, the Blue Fairy… all people she hadn’t seen in years.

“Revenge is so very sweet.”

Regina looked triumphant and rightfully so. Even still, Emma couldn’t pass up one last promise. “Enjoy the small bit of satisfaction killing me will give you because it won’t last.”

“I beg to differ, dear.”

“In the end, you’ll lose.”

The queen’s laugh was more along the lines of a cackle, the sound of it causing Emma’s teeth to grind. “You’re friends and family will be heartbroken when your lifeless body falls to the ground, and the rest of the kingdom will fear me when your parents follow. Fear and anguish are most effective at dampening a person’s motivations. So what makes you think I’ll lose?”

“Because you always do.” Regina’s eyes narrowed. “Coming out on top isn’t in your nature. You can kill me and my parents… you can kill all of those who oppose you… you can force respect and rule these people, but when it’s all said and done, you’ll have no one. At the end of the day, you’ll be alone.”

The wind pulled a lock of hair over Emma’s shoulder, caused it to rise and fall across her eyes in a playful fashion that belied the two women’s heated glares.

With a sharp movement, Regina stepped forward and leaned in. “I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone.” And then she was facing the crowd. “And now you will all stand witness to the death of your beloved royal family – beginning with the long lost princess.”

In that moment, time slowed, very nearly stopped.

The queen stood before her, poised with an exultant smile and hand in the air. Emma’s eyes drifted, moved to settle on her parents’ distraught faces before lifting above the crowd and the town and the situation to the firmament above.

If she focused on the sky, she could almost forget…

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, shooting orange and pink rays of light through the clear sky to welcome the rising moon, and the silvery globe caught the radiance of it in its craters. She didn’t blink for the longest time, caught up in the bursts and patterns of light that ruptured before her eyes. Dappled red and cream danced at the edge of her sight, the pattern of sunshine through autumn leaves. And when the sun’s brilliance faded, pinpricks of light shone in the dark space left in its wake like diamonds scattered throughout the vast void. It was so familiar; she could almost feel the gentle rock of a ship beneath her, the reassuring firmness of the deck under her back, the warm company of fingers around hers.

She could almost forget she was about to die.

Time started again. Regina’s hand stretched forward, obsidian nails reaching, itching to be buried in Emma’s chest. A cry sounded from within the crowd; the wail of a baby would be the only accompaniment to her quiet gasp as she faded into death. And in the bright light of the moon, a star fell and a shadow brushed her eyes. But then…

“Hello, Mother!”

Emma blinked.

Regina paused.

Every eye was pulled to the sound, although the familiar voice and salutation was only recognizable to Emma. One of the podium beams supported his weight as he leaned casually against it, looking for all the world like he belonged there despite the odd, patchwork attire, mischievous grin, and ball of light glowing on his shoulder.

“It’s only been a little while but look at all the trouble you’re in. You should have just stayed with us and played games.”

It took a couple tries before she was able to speak. “Pan…” Her voice was quiet and stunned, unsure if she was really seeing him, if this was really happening. The frisky grin never faltered. She meant to say something more articulate and meaningful, but… “You have a new hat.” A triangularly pointed item with a red feather jauntily extending from it that he hadn’t worn during her time in Neverland.

The original lost boy uncrossed his arms, touching his fingers lightly to the new accessory. “It’s my special hat. I only wear it for the best adventures.” His fingers ran along the length of the feather as if to assure himself it was still there.

The best adventures…

“What are you doing here, Pan?”

His fingers dropped, other hand pushing off of the beam before they both settled at his hips in that spirited way she remembered while the ball of light hovered near his head.

“We’re here to rescue you, of course!”


	19. A Retaliation

_“Fate loves the fearless.”_

* * *

Rescue?

We?

Peter Pan, lost boy and wild child of the enchanted Neverland, had come to liberate her. How he planned to do that, though, she couldn’t fathom. Guards dotted the precipice of the outer wall, lined the edge of the entire courtyard, and were scattered throughout the crowd. To best that many guards, not to mention Regina, would be quite the feat.

Regina managed to find her voice before Emma. “Who are you?”

Pan, who hadn’t even seemed to be concerned with the current predicament – or maybe he just didn’t understand it; or maybe he thought it was only a game – turned to the queen. “I’m Peter Pan. The leader of the Lost Boys and King of Neverland.” His chest puffed out at his self-given titles.

King? That was new.

“Neverland.” Unlike Emma’s initial disbelief when hearing that the realm was real, Regina accepted the information in stride, which was somewhat disappointing. “So you’re here for Emma…” Her words were clearly calculating, slow and probing.

“We’re here to save Mother.”

Again with the mysterious ‘we’.

When Pan first arrived, everyone must have been too surprised by his sudden presence to pick up on the title with which he’d addressed her. That wasn’t the case now. Everyone’s eyes were wide as they came to rest on Emma; even Regina wasn’t quick enough to completely mask her surprise at the declaration.

“Mother?” If the green tint to her complexion was any indication, Emma’s mother was clearly not expecting the thought of being a grandmother.

“You could say he’s adopted.” Even that was a stretch.

Regina took the news in far better stride than anyone else, though, recovering quickly and turning to Emma. “A child? That’s you’re rescuer?” It really was absurd, so she couldn’t fault the genuine amusement in Regina’s laugh.

“That’s right! Now…” Pan pulled out his sword that was really nothing more than an average dagger. Ever brave, he didn’t even look phased by the fact that he was facing down the Evil Queen herself; although, it was likely he didn’t know how dangerous she was. Even if he did, he probably thought the whole adventure was just a big game. “Prepare to fight!”

“Better to have stayed away, dear. I won’t tolerate rebellion, and I’m not above killing children.”

Without warning, a glow lit the space between the princess, the queen, and the lost boy that had progressively darkened when the sun set. Heat brushed Emma’s face, and she turned from Pan to see a ball of fire flickering above Regina’s hand. And with a widening sneer, the flame pulled back with the hand that summoned it before rocketing out. Her heart slowed, then skipped, then stopped. There wasn’t even enough time to yell a warning before… the fireball burst against the podium beam in a display of embers and splinters.

“Haha! Too slow!” The green-clad boy was suspended several feet above their heads, a wide grin on his face. “You’ll have to do better than that, old lady!”

Yes, only the reckless Pan would find taunting the Evil Queen and dodging magical fireballs a game.

The crowd gasped as one at the sight of the flying boy. It wasn’t, after all, something one saw every day. Emma, however, was more focused on how the ball of light that had hovered near Pan’s shoulder had disappeared in the excitement only to reappear in front of her face. With an impish wink, Tinkerbell moved to hover at the cuffs around Emma’s wrists, and one quick glance around the courtyard revealed that Pan had effectively captured everyone’s attention, leaving the pixie free to liberate Emma.

While Tinkerbell picked at the locks, Emma watched the battle before her.

Regina held her hand out again. A rush of magic swept through the courtyard, and Emma involuntarily shuddered at the invasive feel of it as it seemed to pass through her very being. The wind became a visible thing, wisps coloring a dark grey as they swept in from the surrounding air to circle Regina’s arm and stoke the new fireball forming in her hand. The light grew, its dancing light enhancing the hard planes and hollowed eyes of Regina’s expression and distorting Pan’s grin into something far more macabre.

Moments later, the fireball sailed to the flying boy once more to, once again, shatter harmlessly against a wooden plank as Peter Pan took off through the air. With a grimace, Regina followed his movements, shooting fireball after fireball with no success. The lost boy wheeled and spun in a dizzying display of aerial acrobatics without getting so much as singed. Meanwhile, with each miss, the fireballs fell to the ground, forcing the villagers to dodge the projectiles.

“Missed me, missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!” Which was probably one of the strangest phrases Emma – and most likely everyone else present – had ever heard, but there was no telling where he’d picked up the saying.

Suddenly, though, Pan stopped in mid-air. With his arms crossed and that mischievous grin on his face, he was obviously still treating the whole situation as a game. But then, to the centuries-old boy, everything _was_ only a game.

Everyone watched – Pan with a grin and Emma with horror – as a fireball rocketed towards him. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to dodge… only watched as it fell a few feet short.

“You’re getting weak in your old age, evil wench!”

Apparently, Pan had picked up a few new insults since Emma had left Neverland. It was the second time he’d referred to Regina as old and the first time she’d ever heard him borrow the term more common among pirates, and both of the comments made her lips quirk in a smile. Perhaps Neverland was too quiet for his tastes without Hook and his crew around and he missed them.

Regina shot one more projectile his direction, frowning when it, too, fell short.

“I’ve got Lost Boys that can throw farther than that! You gotta try harder!”

Hovering above the crowd, he remained just out of range. Regina let out a breathy chuckle and started to turn back to Emma. It was entirely possible that she was tempted to leave their little spat at that; with her magic, she would have been able to keep Pan at bay while she ripped out Emma’s heart. But when he stuck his thumbs in his ears, wiggled his fingers, and mockingly stuck out his tongue at her, all chance of diplomacy evaporated.

“Don’t just stand there!” Regina’s shout garnered her men’s attention. “Kill him!”

The guards, still dumbfounded by the fact that there was a boy flying around the courtyard, sluggishly raised their weapons. Soon, Pan was moving again, flying through the air with laughter as he dodged swords when he swooped low enough to the ground and arrows when he was higher up.

“Oh yes, this is much more exciting!” Laughing, Pan dropped six feet as ten or more arrows sailed through the space he’d just been before doing a backflip to avoid another couple arrows. “See if you can hit me, you great ugly oaf!” Reaching up, he caught another one of the arrows in mid-flight, twirling it around before sending it sailing back to a guard perched on one of the higher towers.

A tiny click brought Emma back to the activity that had been occurring near her hands as Tinkerbell finally succeeded in picking the lock and the chains came loose to fall to the ground. Ideally, she would have taken advantage of the fact that everyone was distracted by doing… something productive and helpful. However, the clanking of the chains upon impact caught Regina’s attention.

“Not so fast.” At the queen’s words, the manacles re-locked around her wrists and Emma was made to watch as Tinkerbell was swatted by an invisible force to be sent sailing over the far wall in a trail of glimmering dust. Emma’s heart clenched painfully in worry for the pixie, and she hoped that – somehow – she was alright. “I can’t have you escaping, now, can I?”

Both their gazes were drawn once more as, with one last somersault and exultant crow, Pan flew around a corner, a troupe of soldiers clunking in his wake. His laugh and the occasional zing of arrows continued to sound, but he failed to reappear. As the commotion died down, the remaining guards brought the crowd as close to order as they could. People still looked up – most likely, for any other flying children – and talked amongst themselves. Regina had lost their undivided attention; however, she was done waiting, audience or no.

“Seems your hero is too easily sidetracked.”

Emma couldn’t help but sigh; it was either the natural tendency of a young boy or the effects from years spent in Neverland. Gradually, even the sounds of her would-be savior trailed off. Between Pan and Tinkerbell, it had been a good effort. But some things just weren’t meant to be.

“It just goes to show that there is no escape from this. You and your parents _will_ die and I _will_ have my happily ever after.”

People always said that a person’s life flashed before their eyes when they died. Emma had no idea if that were true for everyone, but there were a number of things that crossed her mind in the split-second it took for Regina to get her bearings and reach for Emma’s chest.

She thought about spring and how the last frigid bite of winter would give way to new life. Vibrantly green leaves would adorn the trees, the fields would burst forth with an absolute rainbow of flowers, and all manner of animals would come out of seclusion. She remembered the way her mother would softly smile as she illustrated how to make daisy crowns and bracelets.

She thought about summer and the sun that led to sunburns and freckles after spending too many hours outdoors. The dry heat caused an ever-present film of perspiration that was only solved by day after day of swimming in the ponds and the lakes and the sea. She remembered the way August tirelessly and patiently led her around Tortuga to show her how to get by in her new home.

She thought about autumn and the chilly mornings that signaled the end of the bright yellow of summer and the beginning of the burnished orange and red of fall. Green leaves would fade and darken, falling to the ground when the first traces of fronts from the north would blow in, and every moment was accentuated with the smell of pumpkin and spice. She remembered the way Ruby and she would sit for hours at the local café and talk about everything and nothing over cups of creamy hot chocolate.

She thought about winter and waking up to the first frost. Ice-encrusted grass would crunch with every step, snowdrifts literally begged to be transformed into snowmen, and snowflakes would litter hair and gather on eyelashes. She remembered the way her father had let out a deep, side-stitching laugh when she clumsily fell during her first attempt at ice skating before helping her up.

Regina’s extended hand disappeared into the obscurity of a blink, and in the darkness, Emma saw all those moments – and hundreds more – in painful clarity.

She thought about her parents…

She thought about her friends…

And she thought about him.

The way his natural scent of leather and sea was part of her happiest memories before she was even willing to admit her feelings for him. The way he always seemed to say the right thing even if she had to find it through the veil of innuendo and charm. The way his smirk would often scatter every rational thought and send them tumbling into a swirling vortex. The way the world seemed to err just on the side of perfection when he was around her, against her, within her.

But when the blink had ended, she opened her eyes and the images faded to reveal the same cruel hand and the same cruel smile.

 _Thwack_.

Emma blinked once more as she focused on the vibrating shaft of an arrow that now split her sight. The arrowhead was firmly buried in the wood, the fletching still quivered slightly with the sudden impact, and Regina’s eyes had gone wide at the unexpected interruption.

“I hate to interrupt, milady, but that heart…” Emma and Regina turned in unison. “Belongs to me.”

It made more sense for it to be a hallucination.

But it wasn’t.

He stood on a far precipice, barely discernable in the glow of the torches that lined the outer wall. A breeze fluttered his shirt and ruffled his hair as he shot a typical smirk in her direction. And between the impeccability of his timing – she was sure he planned the entrance to be as dramatic as possible – and the way he stood with his hand and hook resting on his hips, he looked less like a pirate and more like a fairytale prince rescuing the damsel in distress.

“Hook.” Regina’s voice was pure malice.

But he wasn’t alone. Nearly forty men lined the wall on either side of him. She recognized his crew, the pirates with whom she’d shared two years aboard the Jolly Roger, but there was also a whole other group – woodland men and, she couldn’t be sure but it looked like, an oriental warrior – that were completely unfamiliar.

Did he really come back to try and save her? Was he willing to risk everything – including his life – by going up against the Evil Queen? And that same twinge that had shown up every time she’d ruminated on his actions twisted in her side like an old thorn that hadn’t been dug out. Even if he was trying to make up for his past actions, he might as well have stayed away because what chance did he have against Regina and her magic? Emma might not be willing to think about what she felt for Hook anymore, but she certainly didn’t want him dead.

“You look a little worse for wear.” Upon closer inspection, he did seem somewhat haggard; although, she was positive that he could never look _bad_.

“Aye, a beanstalk, a giant, and a hard journey can do that to a man. I’m sure you’re disappointed to see me alive.”

Regina’s expression alone said enough of her feelings on Hook’s appearance. “I can’t say I’m overjoyed. I wonder, though, if you found what you sought. Did you finally get your revenge?”

He casually dismissed the question. “To be quite honest, that’s none of your bloody concern. I’m here for one reason and one reason only – her.” He pointed his hook directly at her, and Emma watched the flickering torchlight refract on its polished surface.

However, Regina only chuckled darkly. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Captain, but you’re too late. In only a few hours either she’ll be dead or we’ll both be dead. There’s no ending where your beloved princess comes out alive.”

“That’s a matter up for debate because I have a group of fighters here ready to call your bluff and take you on.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m warning you…” Now she spoke to everyone atop the wall. “All of you can leave now and take your lives with you, or you can fight here and die.” But not a single one of them even flinched or appeared to consider her threat; they remained resolute, glaring, staring her down.

“I don’t think any of us have any intentions of leaving. Plus, I’ve never been one to turn down a good fight.”

“Is she worth it, Captain?”

His responding half-smirk was of someone that was resigned to whatever fate might come his way.

“Worth dying for.”

And across the courtyard, Hook and Emma’s eyes connected, and her heart thumped powerfully, painfully, _profoundly_ in her chest.

But then the moment was broken by a shudder deep within the earth. The ground quaked beneath Emma’s feet, rocking the wooden podium, and more than a couple women within the crowd screamed in terror. Alarmed, she turned to the Evil Queen.

Emma had once thought that, despite her actions, Regina was a beautiful woman; however, all traces of that beauty faded into a wicked, ugly scowl as she extended her hand to the sky. Clouds formed, swirling above their heads, and bolts of lightning flashed within the dark mass. It was the same kind of storm she’d used in the throne room when she’d captured Emma’s parents, just intensified tenfold; she recognized the electrical charge that was building in the air, could feel the static in her hair and clothing.

Then the increasing pressure seemed to plateau prematurely while the whirlwind of clouds came to a stop. The air still crackled with electricity and the clouds were still dark, but it was like standing on the edge of the cliff before jumping or the painful moment right before a sneeze.

Confused, Emma looked away from the spectacle to Regina who seemed just as perplexed. A frown marked her forehead as her focus haltingly shifted from the storm she’d been summoning to a leather cuff that now adorned her wrist.

She had just lowered her arm to look at the new adornment when a cloud of violet smoke appeared on the far side of the platform. And if Regina sported an ugly expression before, it was nothing compared to the one she wore when she noticed the newcomer.

“Rumplestiltskin.”

The mere mention of his name caused a whispered hush to fall over everyone in the courtyard, citizens and guards alike, and sent Emma’s heart pounding. The Dark One hadn’t been an issue for the kingdom in many years, but his list of evil deeds stretched even longer than Regina’s. There was no telling what, exactly, had brought him out of relative hiding, but she was thankful that his attention seemed to be fully fixated on the Evil Queen.

“Hello, dearie.” Casually, he glanced up at the sky. “You seem to be having some trouble with your storm.”

“What is…” The queen’s lip curled, nastily. “What have you done to me?”

The sound of Rumplestiltskin’s chuckle was the stuff of nightmares. “I’ve sealed your magic. That object will bind the magical properties of whatever or whoever wears it.” And realizing the truth of his words, Regina began to claw desperately at the fetter, panic making itself known. After all, what was the Evil Queen without her magic? “And you’re only going to chip a nail doing that because I’m the only one that can remove the cuff.”

“Impossible!” Regina very nearly snarled. Despite growing pale, her face was still twisted in outright fury and desperation. “What’s the meaning of your interference? You and I had an agreement.”

Again, he tittered. “That’s the funny thing about agreements… they’re no longer binding once broken.”

A beam of moonlight shone onto the side of Rumplestiltskin’s face, eerily illuminating the golden pallor and scaly quality of his skin. Emma glanced up to see that all signs of the magical storm had disappeared. If Regina truly didn’t have magic at her disposal, they might just have a chance to overtake her.

“When you revealed that information to the captain, you set events into motion you couldn’t have imagined, dearie. He was supposed to die atop that beanstalk, but the captain has an aptitude for survival. And I’m sure you never could’ve imagined that he’d come to me seeking a deal instead of revenge.” Rumplestiltskin took a couple steps forward and crossed his arms. “I would have been forced to turn down his request had you not already violated our deal. So really, it was your own doing that brought me here.”

Emma had no idea what was going on. A deal between the Dark One and the Evil Queen… and then it was broken by Regina’s deal with Hook… and the fact that it was broken allowed Rumplestiltskin to make a deal with Hook… or something like that? Too many deals. The terms of them were a mystery to her; the only thing that mattered was that it seemed like Rumplestiltskin had shown up to help them.

“Ah, but I have something you might be interested in.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be Belle, would it?”

Once again, Emma didn’t fully understand what was happening; she could only appreciate the gravity of the situation between the two magic-users. Whatever it was, though, Regina was apparently floored by Rumplestiltskin’s mention of this Belle person.

“It seems you made a tactical error in allowing the captain to know her whereabouts and her importance to me.” The Dark One’s grin turned lethal. “Well… an error to yourself, anyway. It made for a rather convincing term of our agreement.”

“You’ll never reach her in time.” Regina was visibly struggling for leverage. “And even if you do, there are enchantments that will ward even you off. You need me alive to retrieve her, and I’ll return her to you if you remove this cuff.”

Wide grin still in place, he tapped his chin and gazed at the queen’s extended arm as if he were considering her proposal. “That’s very tempting, dearie. But, you see, I’ve already found her.” He ignored the way Regina’s jaw dropped. “You’ve grown into yourself quite nicely over the years I’ve left you alone, but you’ll never know everything about magic. Not the way I do.”

Regina’s jaw snapped closed before she yelled. “Guards!” And the courtyard burst into action at her command.

Realizing that the situation had deteriorated, the crowd moved in a panic. Villagers dashed for the main gates to escape, while Emma’s friends and family pushed against the wave of people in a desperate attempt to reach her. Arrows disappeared into the fleeing crowd before some of the archers accompanying Hook captured the guards’ attention with a few well-placed shots. Meanwhile, Hook and his crew leaped from the wall and into the melee below, leaving the other group of men to alternate between dodging and firing arrows, and even though Emma couldn’t see the pirates, she could hear their battle cries.

Everything was happening so fast…

An arrow zipped by, narrowly missing Emma’s head, and she ducked down. Similarly, Regina, very much aware of her lack of magic to use as a defense, had moved to shout orders from behind one of the podium beams. Rumplestiltskin, however, hadn’t moved an inch, simply surveyed the people in the courtyard with a bored expression.

Suddenly, Emma noticed one of Regina’s guards in the distance. His comrades had cleared a small circle, giving him the time and space needed to aim an arrow directly for Rumplestiltskin. With a _twang_ , he released, and Emma gasped as the arrow flew true and buried itself in the Dark One’s torso. To her surprise, Rumplestiltskin didn’t even flinch, merely looked down at the shaft in his chest. Then, with a disparaging look over his shoulder and a wave of his hand, the arrow disappeared and the guard flew back against a rock wall near the fleeing crowd.

Everyone ignored the guard, too caught up in thoughts of escape to even notice the injured man. They passed him, crowding towards the exit, narrowing down to a few people that led the charge. And the first of the villagers had just reached the palace gates when…

“People! People! Those of you that recognize the true King and Queen!”

The voice rang out over the din of the crowd, slowly catching the villagers’ attention, and one by one, they halted, looking to a bow-wielding, green-clad man atop the wall that called to them.

“You’ve seen it yourself – the queen is powerless. And without her magic, she can’t hurt us. Don’t let her bring down this kingdom; don’t let her rule you and hold you under her boot. If you wish to be free, stand up to her. Fight back.” He pointed his bow across the expanse to Regina herself. “Fight back against the Evil Queen!”

It was almost amusing how, as one, the people seemed to consider the words for a second before retaliating. With raucous yelling, they turned away from the gates and stormed the guards, some with bare hands and others with anything they could find that could be used as a weapon. Unprepared for such an attack given their queen’s magical abilities, Regina’s men were taken by surprise.

Emma watched as the kingdom fought back. Farmers took up pitchforks and shovels from nearby hay and manure carts, stabbing those who attacked them and knocking unconscious those that were still too stunned to fight back. Bakers wielded wooden spoons and rolling pins, the dull thuds of the objects striking metal armor ringing above the noise. She even saw a group of kids near a cart from the stables throwing handfuls of manure into the faces of any guards that came within distance.

“What are you doing?” Regina yelled to her men. “Drive them back, you imbeciles!”

The whole courtyard had descended into chaos.

Emma had just spotted her parents, Ruby, and August fighting with their backs to each other when a body suddenly obscured her vision. Looking up, she met eyes with Rumplestiltskin himself. In between her startled, thudding heartbeats, she distantly thought how he was far shorter than she would’ve thought. Not that height had any effect on his magical abilities.

That grin from earlier was back as he tilted his head slightly and silently gazed at her. Was he going to kill her? Had he only been pretending to be on their side? Was he not helping either side but debilitating each of them to see how much havoc he could cause? She briefly considered running, even though she knew it would have been futile, but then the weight around her wrists lifted as the manacles and chains disappeared altogether.

“My deal with Hook is now complete. You’re on your own now, dearie.”

Then Rumplestiltskin disappeared in a plume of smoke.

Emma vaguely wondered if she’d hit her head at some point because nothing seemed to make sense anymore. She’d been about to die, had pretty much accepted that fact, when people that should not have been in attendance appeared. Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Hook and his crew, a random group of archers, and Rumplestiltskin… and all of them had not only managed to shock Regina, but bind her magic and turn the tides of the battle.

It wasn’t at all how she’d expected her murder ceremony to go.

Then again, she wasn’t complaining.

A quick, reassuring glance down to her now-free hands revealed another surprise – her short sword. Lying in the exact spot from which Rumplestiltskin had just disappeared was her trusty blade that had been taken from her back in Tortuga. She’d assumed it to have been kept by the pirates that had kidnapped them, yet here it was.

The evening was definitely leaning more on the side of surreal.

With a quick mutter of thanks to whatever gods, fate, or luck was on her side, she picked up her sword and turned to see a trio of guards making their way up the steps towards her.

“… her! Kill her!”

Regina’s voice filtered in, and Emma looked back to see the queen, still hidden behind the beam, urgently pointing in her direction. Gauging the situation, it didn’t take long for Emma to recognize she couldn’t take on all three guards at once. She was good, but she wasn’t that good.

The men sped up, aware of her intentions, but in only three steps, she’d reached the front of the platform and jumped down. Immediately, her presence attracted the attention of another guard. He glared at her, picking up his queen’s yelling, and with a sickening punch, he felled the man he’d been engaged with and started in her direction. Hook had once told her that sometimes running away could be a sign of wisdom, not cowardice, so she held onto that thought as she turned coat and sprinted, figures becoming a blur as she followed the outskirts of the battle.

Away from the majority of the fighting, she turned and was immediately forced to leap back to dodge a blow from the guard that had followed her and then raise her blade to block another swing.

Well over six feet and twice her width, the man’s superior strength overwhelmed her. Each swing forced her back several steps, but her instincts kicked in as she attempted to read his patterns to find a weakness or an opening. She’d have to make a move soon or risk getting trapped against the wall.

Suddenly, a wad of manure connected with the back of the guard’s neck, momentarily distracting him. His eyes left her for no more than a second, but it was enough. With a sharp upswing, she was able to simultaneously force him back and wipe the smug leer of his face. Jabbing, spinning, swinging, she pushed him back with tactical moves instead of sheer force… until he recovered just enough to block her sword, step forward, and backhand her.

Stars exploded in her eyes.

Backpedaling blindly, she tried to stay alive until she could see properly again. Through the colorful haze, she could just make out his form as he felled the sword, throwing his weight behind it.

The force of the strike sent a painful vibration up the length of her sword that seemed to continue travelling through her hand and up her arm, leaving a tingling numbness in its wake. And in that moment of distraction, as she was desperately trying to blink away the last of the stars and focus on making her fingers regain their grip on the hilt, the guard advanced and knocked the blade from her hand with an easy swing.

It fell in slow motion, clattering against the cobblestones some feet away. The guard was too close and the sword too far out of reach, so she could do nothing as he advanced and closed his fingers around her throat. It was reflex that had her hands coming up to pry at the force cutting off her oxygen, but his grip was too strong and she was growing weak. What little air she’d managed to take in was being burned up by the adrenaline rushing through her.

“You’ve been trouble from the start.” Rank breath in her face. “You should have been killed weeks ago.” Dark blotches at the edges of her vision. “She’ll reward me for disposing of you.”

Or she’d kill the man for not being able to complete the deed herself.

He drew her closer and breathed the words with a malicious smile. “Long live the…”

The hand around her neck suddenly loosened, and confused pain overtook his eyes as the words died in a pained inhale. Not taking the time to analyze the reason for his odd behavior or the extent of her injury, she slipped out of his grasp, shifted her weight, and prepared to fight back. But then she paused. Her slight movement had brought her marginally closer to his body and she’d felt a subsequent prick against her sternum. Hardly daring to breathe, she glanced down… only to see the wicked point of a sword protruding from his chest.

“Hello, beautiful.”

There was only one man who’d ever greeted her that way. And there was only one man who carried such a preternatural smirk that it could literally be heard in his voice.

The guard’s body slid off the sword with a wet sound and slumped to the ground to reveal the pirate she knew oh so well.

“This reminds me a lot of that first night in Tortuga. You have quite the knack for getting yourself into sticky situations, love.”

So casually observant. As if it didn’t bother him in the least that there was a dead man between them; not to mention the sickening red smear that coated the length of his cutlass or the traces of organs still caught on its edge.

“Just goes to show that you can spend years teaching a woman the proper art of swordplay, but leave her in a dungeon for a few weeks without practicing and she forgets everything.”

The quip was far more typical of Hook than the bold statement from the wall, and any of the feelings – it was becoming hard to distinguish between concern, anger, relief, and happiness when thinking of him – she’d had upon his arrival vanished at the facetious jab. Four weeks. _Four weeks_ she’d been held prisoner while he’d been gallivanting around, and the first thing he did after finding her and saving her life was resort to flirtatious banter?

That smug, self-righteous, annoying, god-damned, bloody hell of a…

But when she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, the deep breath caused her to erupt into a fit of wheezing, raspy coughs. Her windpipe was bruised from the pressure it had undergone, and her throat felt like it was on fire. Bent over, hands on her knees, she tried to breathe through the hacking and, at the same time, ignore the warm hand that now rested on her shoulder blade. And when she was finally able to inhale without erupting into fits, she straightened, stubbornly shrugging away Hook’s hand.

“I’ve missed you too, love.” He failed miserably at maintaining the light tone after her combined gesture and refusal to meet his eyes; she’d known him too long to _not_ pick up on the undercurrent, the rough edges to the words. Even still, he spoke again, insisting in a softer tone. “I really have.”

Clanging swords and battle cries that had been so pervasive seemed distant as her gaze finally slid up to his. So very blue… and just as striking as she’d remembered. It really wasn’t fair at all. Between showing up and saving her life and leaving her speechless with that stupid charm and dragging her down with those captivating eyes… it was like history repeating itself. And when he reached out to touch the ends of her hair – gods, it was _just like_ that night – she was hit with a wave of vertigo so strong she had to fight for balance.

“I wasn’t about to leave you here to die.”

Her eyes dropped to his chest.

“I will always fight for you.”

She swallowed hard.

“Emma…”

It was the sound of her name falling from his mouth that finally gave her the strength to look up again… and punch him squarely in the nose.

Men made fist-fighting look so easy. They’d move in a circle, throw a few punches, and grapple with each other like there was nothing to it. And for the person on the offensive, it looked relatively painless. But those sailors that emerged victorious in the matches she’d watched in Tortuga must have been talented actors in a performance of masculinity because throwing a punch wasn’t easy at all – it hurt.

 _Fuck_ , it hurt.

Gritting her teeth against the pain in her knuckles, she alternatively shook her hand and massaged the sore bones. It was almost worth the pain, though, to see the way Hook stumbled back a few steps and reached up to cover his nose.

His wry chuckle sounded muffled. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve that…” His pronunciation sounded off, too; although, that was probably due to the blood that dripped from his nose following her punch.

Emma didn’t quite trust her voice enough yet to speak, but even if she did, she wasn’t sure what she’d say.

_Thank you for coming to my rescue._

_Thank you for being willing to die for me and for shamelessly declaring it to everyone in the kingdom._

_Thank you for finding a way to bind Regina’s magic so we have a fighting chance._

_Thank you for saving me yet again even though I’m not sure if I’m ready to forgive you for being a lying, sneaking bastard of a pirate._

She was still contemplating what to say when a dash of black caught her eye. There was a swirl of a train, a furtive glance over her shoulder, and then Regina disappeared into the castle unnoticed by everyone except Emma. Or so she thought.

“Come on, love. We can’t let her get away.”

Hook must have seen Regina too.

The curved metal of his hook pressed firmly against her lower back, prodding her towards the palace doors, and he shoved the sword back into her hand before they took off. It was hard to focus as they cut their way through several groups of guards on their way to the entrance; Hook’s presence was incredibly distracting after spending weeks trying to sort through his actions and her feelings. After one last downward stroke, the coast was clear, and they darted across the remaining space.

“You look good, by the way.”

Emma glowered at him, which was actually somewhat difficult to pull off when she was out of breath and panting deeply from all of the fighting and running. “Don’t even.” Talking to him was… not something she could handle right now. But then again, when did Hook ever take no for an answer?

“What? I can’t tell my favorite lass that she looks lovely? Your cheeks are flushed, you’re wielding a sword, there’s the rage of battle in your eyes… not to mention the fact that you’re still alive.”

“No thanks to you.” The words were muttered under her breath, not intended to be heard, but he picked up on them nonetheless. His hook looped around her elbow, and with a sharp tug, he hauled her into an alcove and pushed her against the wall. Her breath escaped in a sharp exhale at the jolt.

“I was a fool, Emma, for thinking that my actions with Regina would never come into play.” He spoke fiercely, insistently, and she was nearly consumed by his expression. “It was so much easier to pretend that we could outrun her forever, that we could just sail the seas for the rest of our lives. But when we found out about the curse…”

When they found out about the curse… that was when everything had changed.

The world seemed too big and too small all at the same time. It was like she could hear the patrons’ raucous laughter in The Salty Dog Inn or see the moonlight shining on the sea that lapped at the docks at the edge of Tortuga, despite being half a world away, and at the same time, feel the way both Hook’s hand and the cutlass he still gripped pressed into her shoulder to keep her against the wall.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

It was the only question she had, the only question that mattered.

She watched the play of emotion in his eyes – confusion, fear, anger, loathing – before they dropped altogether to focus somewhere around her neck. Fingers tightened across the top of her shoulder, falling just short of painful, brows lowered over his eyes, and he took a harsh breath.

“Because I was a coward.”

And Emma, of all people, understood the gravity of what he’d just admitted.

Words spoken on a drunken night in the middle of Neverland – _I have no use for cowards_ – floated back to her, and the stubborn hardness of her heart melted away of its own accord. Nothing seemed to matter in that moment as she studied him. His head tilted away from her, but not even the refusal to meet her eyes could block the anguish that rolled from him in waves.

Her fingertips twitched, suddenly wanting – maybe it was more along the lines of needing – to feel him in any way she could. With the little space between them, she could have touched his forearm or the fabric at his waist without much effort. Instead, she lifted her hand. And when a single fingertip traced the stubble that lined his jaw, he jerked so severely that the cutlass still held between his hand and her body clanged against the wall above her.

“A coward wouldn’t have come back.”

At her words, he finally looked up at her, a combination of disbelief and hope etched across his face. “Aye, well…” The lines smoothed from his face, but his jaw remained tense even as he fell back on tried and true banter. “I prefer you alive rather than dead.”

But just before she could let loose a breathy chuckle, he pushed her roughly to the side. Stumbling and catching herself against a pile of crates, she registered the clashing of swords before she even turned to find Hook locked in battle with a couple guards.

“Go, love! I’ll be right behind you.” Confused, Emma blinked at his words. Her hand tightened on the hilt, ready to join in the battle, but then he heaved, knocking the guards to the ground just long enough to loop his hook through the neckline of her shirt and pull her forward. “Get out of here, Emma. You can’t let her escape.” And then she was being shoved towards the palace doors.

Regina.

Caught up in their moment of admittance and forgiveness – was she really ready to forgive him? – she’d almost forgotten. Resolve flooding through her, she gritted her teeth, sent one last look over her shoulder to Hook, and then dashed up the steps to slip through the door and into the palace.


	20. A Confrontation

_“Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery.”_

* * *

The last time Emma had walked through the doors, she’d been a prisoner of the Evil Queen; the second to the last time she’d walked through the doors, she’d been running away. Now, she entered – not a prisoner, not running away – and walked through them willingly. The sounds of battle lessened as they shut behind her, the heavy thud echoing throughout the abandoned castle. Leaning back against the familiar wood, she scanned for any sign of Regina in the dim lighting of the grand hallway.

In the quiet, the only sound was her thudding heartbeat and stifled breaths. But then she heard something. A faint squeak, the sound of distant footsteps… and Emma just barely caught a glimpse of a pale face peek around a pillar farther down the main foyer before the queen darted out and raced towards a far doorway.

Immediately, Emma took off. With the head start, she was barely able to keep Regina in sight as they sprinted down the corridors, steps echoing eerily in the otherwise silent hallways. A stitch formed in her left side as she pushed her body faster, but she pressed a fist to the ache, tried to breathe deeply, and pushed on. She’d be damned if she let Regina get away because she couldn’t run fast enough.

But what would she do when she caught her?

Alone in the castle, they would be pitted against each other in a battle for their lives. The Evil Queen, normally so dependent on her now-subdued magic, probably didn’t have a weapon while Emma was armed with her short sword. She knew the queen would gladly kill her given the chance… could Emma do the same with the cards in her favor?

A flash of black, the swish of a cloak around a corner… Emma pursued Regina through the ballrooms, up the staircase, and through the west wing before finally seeing her take a turn that she knew from experience would only lead to a dead-end. With an end in sight, Emma pushed harder, sprinting to the last junction…

Only to be forced into a backbend to avoid being decapitated by a hatchet.

There was a sharp crack as the weapon buried itself into the wall, and Emma was littered with pieces of mortar as her feet slid out and she landed heavily on the floor. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, left her gasping, and sent her blade skidding to the side, but there was no time to recover. She was forced to crab-crawl backwards as the hatchet was pulled free from the wall and slammed into the floor where her legs had been moments before.

Twisting to her hands and feet, she scrambled away, hands and feet fighting for purchase on the smooth stone. There was no time to think of the way it sounded when the hatchet repeatedly buried itself in the floor or the way it felt when the air was disturbed as the strikes fell just a little too close for comfort; there was only time to think of getting away.

But she was fighting a losing battle.

Over and over the hatchet fell, sending pieces of the wall and floor flying. Emma was just beginning to formulate a plan when she felt a boot catch her ankle and pull back, halting her forward momentum. Off balance, she was sent sprawling onto her stomach, and she dimly registered the pain and blood that filled her mouth as her chin connected with the floor and her teeth clamped down on the side of her cheek.

There was no more running. So in a last ditch effort, she abandoned all thoughts of escape and turned to her attacker. Brown pants were all she was able to take in before shifting to the side to dodge another downward blow. And with her foe bent over and the hatchet still in the floor, Emma locked her leg and brought it around, bringing her opponent crashing to the ground beside her with a distinctly male grunt as she swept his feet out.

Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Emma leapt to her feet and kicked the hatchet away from an already-seeking hand.

Space.

She needed space between her and the enemy to regroup and prepare for the next round. This foe was the only thing that stood between her and the queen trapped in one of the rooms farther down the hallway. Emma knew she could beat whoever this was. But just as she stepped away, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle. This time, though, she held the high ground. With a quick turn, she punched. Her fist connected squarely with a bearded jaw, knocking his head back to the floor, and his hand loosened enough for her to rip her leg free, grab her short sword, and retreat to a safe distance.

Her hand hurt terribly, but sore and bruised knuckles were a small price to pay for her life.

The man stirred, bringing his hands beneath himself before rising to his feet. His back was to her as he moved to retrieve his hatchet, and Emma held out her blade in response. Then, with a slow turn, Regina’s last defense turned and brandished the hatchet in her direction.

And it took a few stunned moments for Emma to take in the fact that the man she was fighting was Graham.

* * *

Killian dodged a haphazard swing before running his cutlass through the last of the guards.

“You’ll have to do better than that, mate.” Then, with a wet gurgle, the man fell to the ground.

Blood ran in rivulets down the contours of his sword, dripping from the end, and he dashed them off with a flick of his wrist. In the middle of the movement, though, he spied a dark shape behind him. Still on edge with the fire of battle in his veins, he quickly turned. Slashing downward, his blade clanged loudly against the edge of a mighty long sword. And then his eyes met ones that were so familiar, they could only be related to Emma.

“Easy there.” There was a twinkle in the man’s eyes that belied the seriousness of the situation. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer an ally, would you?”

Before he could respond, another voice drew his gaze.

“You must be Emma’s pirate.”

A petite woman with flowing, wavy hair and warm eyes, she didn’t look at all like someone that should be in the midst of battle; however, the kind smile contradicting sharply with the blood-stained sword in her hand proved him wrong. And while he took her in, he noticed that, like the man’s eyes, the woman’s round face was strikingly familiar to Emma’s.

If Killian was right – and he knew he was – he was looking at Emma’s parents, the much-loved King Charming and Queen Snow.

Slowly, he allowed his cutlass to fall, the king’s following soon after. “You must be Emma’s parents.” Charming’s crooked grin and Snow’s beaming one answered the question.

“Oh, you’re even more handsome than I expected.”

If it were anyone but Emma’s mother that said that, Killian would have already spouted off an innuendo. Honestly, the words begged for a quip. But it was Snow that had said them, and any suggestive remark on his part would be distinctly counterproductive to earning their favor. As it was, he had to fight a smirk at the way the king turned to stare at his wife after her comment.

“Pleasure to meet you, milady.” He may have held his tongue out of respect for the two royals, but that didn’t prevent him from kissing the back of her hand and bowing extravagantly when he introduced himself. “Killian Jones.”

“And so charming!”

“Snow, please.” When Killian straightened, he caught the king’s exasperated gaze as he turned from the queen. “I’m hoping there will be more time to talk later because I believe we have much to discuss…” The steely edge that entered Charming’s gaze spoke of a father’s protectiveness for his daughter. “But right now, time is of the essence. Have you seen Emma?”

The urgency laced through his voice was blatant. “No more than a few minutes ago. I sent her into the castle after Regina while I fought off the guards.”

“Then you must go to her. You’re the only one that can help.” It was Snow again, now staring at him pleadingly. Before he could even voice his question, though, it was answered. “True love’s kiss. Aside from one of them dying, it’s the only thing that can break the curse.”

His mouth gaped slightly as he stared back and forth between Snow and Charming, looking for any sign of jest and then mentally floundering when he saw none.

“I… true… what?” It was likely the most ineloquent thing he’d ever said. Then again, he was having trouble comprehending exactly what Snow had just revealed to him.

“You’re her true love; I just know it. Which means that one kiss from you should break the curse.”

The conversation had veered sharply off the course of normal and into the surreal. Killian shuffled slightly to maintain his balance when it felt like the world shifted. True love. Love in itself was one thing, but _true love_? Between Rumplestiltskin and now the king and queen, it seemed everyone but Killian was convinced that he and Emma were each other’s true love. And yet… when he thought of her…

What felt like hundreds of questions rattled in his head, but he only managed to edge out one. “Does Emma know about this?”

“She… might.”

“And I take it from your hesitation she didn’t agree with your theory either?”

Snow shifted timidly, glancing up at Charming who also looked apprehensive. “No, she didn’t.”

Figured.

“Then what makes you so sure that I’m… that we…” He couldn’t even finish, but the inference was enough.

At the denial, the queen’s eyes flashed. “Because I know what true love looks like, and I don’t need a full thirty years together to know my daughter. And let me tell you…” Snow strode forward to poke him in the chest. “Emma was too hurt by your actions for it to be only some superficial fling. The way she spoke of you, the look in her eyes when I talked to her… it has to be true love, whether she’s willing to admit to it or not.”

Killian was floored, intimidated by the pure beliefs of the woman before him.

His throat felt unnaturally tight. “You truly believe she loves me?” Forgiveness was one thing, but love… that was something completely different. And after everything he’d done, it seemed…

Impossible.

Improbable.

Inconceivable.

“Are we gossiping about true love over here? There’s nothing I enjoy more than discussing other people’s love lives, especially when mine is in shambles.”

In unison, they all three turned to face the newcomers who had appeared from nowhere. Ruby looked none the worse for wear; on the other hand, August’s shirt sported a nasty gash that was rimmed with blood. Judging by his still healthy pallor, though, it must have only been a shallow wound.

“Ruby, tell me…” Snow stepped to the other woman. “Do you believe that Emma is in love with Killian?”

Ruby didn’t even appear to be taken aback by the sudden question. “I know my friend, and I think it’s definitely more than just a passing infatuation.”

“And do you think it’s possible for it to be _true_ love between them?”

The barmaid’s face twisted into a wide smile, and Snow turned back to him, the expression on her face clearly saying something along the lines of ‘I told you so’. But it still seemed so unreal. What pirate – what man – deserved true love after the things he’d done? It was so… so…

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But…”

“There’s no _time_ for explanations. You have to go now!” Snow cut him off and gave him a slight shove towards the palace doors. “Go after her. We’ll stay here and hold them off.”

Immediately, Ruby cut in. “No. No, no, no. Not happening, Your Majesty.” Ruby shook her head insistently and pushed against Snow and Charming’s shoulders. “All three of you should go; August and I can keep them off.”

“No offense, lass, but a barmaid and an innkeeper won’t be able to do much against trained soldiers.” Killian held his ground even as the two royals stepped towards him. Emma would surely rescind her halfway-forgiveness from earlier if he allowed anything to happen to her friends.

“August can hold his own fairly well.” And there was a sly grin on Ruby’s face as she glanced up to the sky, her hands reaching for the ties of her blood red cloak. “And who said I’m just a barmaid?”

* * *

Emma favored her twisted ankle, limping to retrieve the blade that had been, once again, knocked from her grasp while Graham leaned heavily against the wall swiping blood from his eyes.

It was a temporary reprieve.

Lifting the leg of her pants, Emma could see the skin already bruising from the injury. It was only one of many she’d sustained. There was a lump on the back of her head courtesy of a wayward elbow thrust, her tailbone was sore from the initial fall to avoid Graham’s hatchet, a nasty gash on her shoulder from when she hadn’t dodged a swing quickly enough, a variety of other minor scrapes and bruises, and now her ankle.

The huntsman seemed to be faring better.

The heavily-bleeding cut on his forehead was his own doing – he’d slipped and collided with the blunt end of the hatchet when she’d tripped him. Aside from that, he only had a few bruises caused by the occasional kick or punch she’d sent his way and a missing tuft of hair from the crown of his head where she’d sliced just a little too close for comfort. The close call had made her heart falter because, unlike him, she wasn’t aiming to kill. Emma had no intension of hurting Graham; the only goal she had in mind was to disarm.

Or possibly knock him unconscious so he couldn’t do any more harm.

With a low grunt, Graham pushed off from the wall to attack once more. Blades flashed in the torchlight and struck with an iron scream before locking together. The narrowed edge of the hatchet glinted in her face while her short sword pressed under the edge of his blade, digging a notch into the wooden handle with the pressure. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her arms trembled with the strain of holding off the scowling huntsman, but they both held firm. It was a standoff.

“You have to try and fight her, Graham.”

Why did she even say that? Regina literally held his heart in her hand. That wasn’t something he could resist. Emma had been forced to watch as it had been torn from his chest; she’d had to watch as he was reduced to nothing more than a hapless slave to the Evil Queen.

He issued something that was half-growl and half-grunt then pushed her forcefully back. “No, you have to die.”

Emma’s feet slid along the slick floor for a moment before she began taking steps to keep her balance. Frantically, she tried to remain aware of both her friend-turned-enemy and her surroundings, noticing the wall he was steadily trying to maneuver her towards. With their blades still locked together, she managed to steer them away at the last second. If he were to pin her against it, there would be little she could do to fend him off.

“We all have to die…” Mustering her last bit of strength, Emma heaved against him and brought them to a standstill once more. “But I refuse to die by your hand.”

She took one last look into his eyes and found no trace of recognition, only the single-minded expression of a hunter going after the kill. With the knowledge that her friend was well and truly out of reach, her teeth gritted to the point she thought they’d break.

“You _will_ , Princess.”

“Damn it, Graham, I am not your enemy!”

And with one last violent twist, her elbow connected with his temple. The force of it snapped his head to the side as he stumbled away from her. Still shaken from the blow, Emma recognized what might be her only chance. So, ignoring the pain in her elbow, she stepped forward and followed up with a right hook to his opposite temple. Stunned, Graham stared at her blankly for a moment. But he only took a couple faltering steps in her direction before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor.

Panting heavily, she observed him, waiting until her breathing had slowed before choosing to approach. Carefully, she kicked his foot. It flopped limply. Then, she took another step and toed his ribs. Not even a twitch. Satisfied that he really was out and wasn’t going to suddenly jump up and attack her, she pressed a finger under his chin to check his pulse and then kicked the hatchet away for good measure.

Standing in the middle of the hallway, Emma felt a little lost.

Regina hid in one of the rooms down the corridor in front of her, there was an unconscious huntsman at her feet, and the rest of her family and friends were battling in the courtyard below. And all the while, the clock ticked, counting down the seconds to an inevitable end.

But who’s end?

She was still gathering her thoughts when a roar sounded through one of the windows that had been shattered during her and Graham’s fight. It wasn’t a noise she could easily place, but still… something about it itched at the back of her mind, like she’d heard it before. The sounds of the battle lessened for a moment; it wasn’t until after the second roar that the terrified screams began. Confused, she ran to the window, minding the jagged pieces of glass that still clung to the frame. And what she saw below made her heart pound.

It was a beast – a massive animal.

Prowling along the edge of the courtyard, it was all thick fur and sharp teeth and solid muscle. Emma watched it pace back and forth, every pass bringing it closer to a group of people – guards and villagers mixed together, transgressions forgotten under their new, shared threat – trapped against the wall. A vicious snarl as sharp as its pointed canines cut through the air right before it leaped forward.

Emma gasped as she watched the animal tear through the people, her hand slipping slightly in her inattention against a keen edge of the glass. The blood that welled from the wound couldn’t distract her, though; she was focused on the morbid scene below, drawn like a moth to the flame. Unable to look away, she observed as limbs were torn off and tossed aside and noticed blood stain the animal’s maw, outlining it until the snarl almost resembled a jeer.

But then she noticed that the villagers were running away unharmed… every single one of them.

Emma frowned. Not a single innocent member of the kingdom was injured. The animal leaped from guard to guard, slaughtering them, but it passed over the innocents. And it was then that the realization hit her. There was a crumpled swath of red fabric against the wall, and the moon that had been shining so brightly that evening was, indeed, full. Which meant the beast below wasn’t some monstrous creature. It was…

“Ruby.”

Right on cue, as if Emma’s whispered word had been a yell, her friend-turned-werewolf looked up to where she stood and met her eyes. The snarl faded, replaced by a wolf version of a grin complete with lolling tongue.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

So Ruby really did remain aware of herself when she transformed. Emma couldn’t help but feel stunned. How many people could say they’d had a werewolf grin at them? But then the moment was broken as Ruby bounded into the fray and the villagers, having realized she was on their side and not just killing mindlessly, took up their arms once more.

Shaking her head, Emma pulled away from the window to inspect the fresh slice across the palm of her hand only to see a welcome sight in the background. Conveniently leaning against the next window frame was Graham’s bow and quiver of arrows. Between Rumplestiltskin leaving her short sword behind and now this, it was like fate was smiling down on her. Aside from the whole curse about to kill her thing, that is.

Swiping the already drying blood onto her pants, she picked up the bow. It was larger than she was accustomed to but felt no less familiar gripped in her hand. Instantly, she felt at ease. Years of training with Hook had made her proficient in swordplay, but nothing beat the control she felt when using a bow. Sheathing her blade, she slung the quiver across her torso, nocking an arrow to the string. Then, with one last look to the courtyard below, she started down the hallway.

There were a number of doors, but Emma knew this wing of the castle like the back of her hand. Her room was at the end of it, after all. It would be fitting for Regina to be hiding out in her old bedroom, but Emma forced herself to check every possibility. She couldn’t go straight there and risk overlooking the queen in one of the other rooms.

The castle appeared to have been abandoned in a hurry. Most of the rooms were in various states of disarray, clothes scattered about or furnishings misplaced. Some of them even contained still-burning lanterns, the flickering light throwing shadows across the walls, or glowing embers in the fireplace. Regina must have forced everyone to the courtyard without much warning.

Room after room, she checked; heart speeding up every time she pushed a door open and peered inside and face contorting in a wince when the occasional hinge would squeak, betraying her whereabouts. Most of the rooms were generic and ordinary. But there was a twinge of sorrow when she came across her parents’ suite. The oh-so-familiar window seat that overlooked the gardens, the four-poster bed with its extravagant curtains, the dressing table where she’d watched her mother style her hair, the elegantly crafted armoire that held her father’s armor and weapons…

Heart hurting, she quickly closed the door.

Only one room remained.

With a steadying breath, Emma faced her bedroom. Grasping the doorknob – it felt so much smaller in her hand now than it had when she was twelve – she carefully twisted it. There was no resistance or noise from years of disuse, and she wondered how often her parents had entered the abandoned room during her absence. Then, with one more deep breath, she flung the door open and raised the bow.

Staring down the shaft of the drawn arrow, Emma scanned the room. Not a speck of dust coated any of the surfaces, and nothing was out of place; not a single thing had even been _moved_ in eighteen years. The green dress she’d worn to the ball was thrown across the bed, the shattered pieces of her piggy bank remained where she’d left them on the bookshelf, and the diamond encrusted hairpin – the gift from her mother – still lay on the floor where she’d dropped it.

Taking in the sight, she could almost feel the fire that had burned in her chest that night when she decided to leave, could taste the salty tears that she’d shed when writing her parting letter.

She was brought back to reality, though, by a slight shuffle in the depths of the room.

The sound was quiet but telling, and Emma found her in the shadows of the far wall, nearly hidden in the darkness.

“Emma.”

“Regina.”

The Evil Queen stepped forward and into the bright moonlight shining through one of the open windows. Their cold greeting was amplified by the grin on Regina’s face.

“Tell me…” Her tone was deceptively conversational as she stepped even further into the room. “Did you dispatch of the huntsman?” Emma didn’t respond, only followed the queen’s meandering progress with the bow. “I sincerely hope not. Especially not after the trouble I went through to save his life.”

“Shut up.”

“Sensitive subject? I assumed he was involved with your friend, but maybe I was mistaken. Latent feelings on your part, perhaps? I don’t think I can blame you; he was very attractive what with the innocent eyes, curly hair, and sweet disposition.” She tutted. “Oh, but what would the captain think?”

Emma’s hand clenched the grip of the bow so hard she feared it would break. “I said, shut up.”

“With his skill set, he made the ideal guard. He really was quite useful…” If possible, her grin grew even wider, bordering on the edge of macabre. “And so very loyal.”

Lip curling into a sneer, she responded to Regina’s taunting grin. “Loyalty doesn’t count for much when it’s forced. But then, I suppose nothing about you warrants genuine loyalty, does it?”

The jab brought Regina up short and ceased her stalking movements. Her jeer faltered, slipped, and Emma saw through its cracks to the anger that boiled like lava in the heart of her.

“Loyalty is a farce; a fickle thing that can be bought much more easily with gold than by good works. But what would a runaway princess know of loyalty?” She spat the words, face distorted in malice. “You – selfish, spoiled brat that you were – who was too afraid of not getting what you wanted in life, too consumed with yourself, to consider the consequences of your actions. I’ve always wondered, Emma… what kind of daughter repays her parents’ love with silence and rejection? How does it feel to have betrayed those that cared for you most?”

It was the harsh truth, but that made it no easier to handle. The pain of it was a knife swimming through her veins. It left little pieces of metal in its wake, brittle pieces that broke off to cut into her heart while others grew into hooks that speared her lungs and stole her breath. Because she couldn’t breathe. And she couldn’t see. Why was her sight so red? So… tainted?

Was it because she was tainted?

Tainted with her own self-centered desires… her own selfish ambitions…

And damn, how ambition could be such a dirty thing.

“You’re right. I was a terrible excuse for a daughter. I hurt them and denied them. I chose to run away rather than face any of my responsibilities. All the years I could have spent with them, all the time we could have had together has been wasted… because of me.”

The muscles that held the bow steady faltered and slipped. She would have said it was because she was shaking, but it wasn’t really so much that her body trembled; it was more like her skin slid across muscle and sinew as if it no longer fit anymore. When everything was burned away in the fires of truth, what was there to cling to anymore?

But then…

“ _Emma!_ ”

The familiar voice echoed down the hallway and through the door. And maybe there _was_ something to cling to. Although really, it wasn’t so much as her clinging as it was them holding her up. That voice gave her strength and determination and courage and all the things she didn’t have an ounce of on her own in the wake of Regina’s statements.

“But I guess that’s just something I’ll have to deal with. Because, in the end, that has nothing to do with you.”

The last traces of her name had barely faded away when another voice called out, closer now. They were coming for her, and her heart pounded for a completely different reason when she realized that they would _always_ come for her. With the shouts coming ever closer, Regina’s cruel leer melted into a narrowed glare.

“I can’t say I was hoping you’d find me… but I also can’t say I didn’t expect it. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re just like your parents with their needless heroics.” Emma’s back tightened with newfound vigor as she renewed her aim on the Evil Queen.

“You know I can’t let you escape.”

“ _Emma!_ ”

Regina flashed another sneer her way. “Your parents never knew when to back down either. Hear how, even now, they seek us out.” The voices were growing louder; they had to be in the same wing now. “So what will you do now, Princess? Whether they’re here or not, you have a choice to make. One of has to die. Can you release that arrow and kill me or are you going to be just like your parents in that respect? Are you too spineless, too afraid to do what needs to be done?”

“I’m not afraid.”

But she was. And the fact that she’d waited this whole time without taking action contradicted her words. If she were as unaffected by the thought of killing Regina as she pretended to be, she would have done so upon first sight. What was more was that Regina knew it.

“You are afraid… but what of? Is it death that you fear, Emma? Or do you fear killing an unarmed opponent? It’s not so easy to kill someone when you’re life’s not on the line, is it?”

Murder of any kind was a despicable act, but it was easier to rationalize when done in self-defense. When that group of men had rushed her, when that assassin had slid his knife into her side, when the guards had attacked her in the courtyard… every single one of those instances had been in the heat of the moment when the only option was to kill or be killed.

“Killing someone in cold blood is so much harder, especially for someone like you. But at the same time, it’s so much more intimate.” And the way Regina said it so nonchalantly, so carelessly, made Emma feel sick.

Regina was her foe, and if not for her magic being stifled, Emma would already be dead. Maybe allowing an arrow to sink into her body would have been easier to swallow had she been armed… or maybe not. She could do this, though; she knew she could. She had to. But at the same time, her hands were sweating and her arms were trembling and her breath was coming quicker and her mind was racing with her parents’ words.

_It leaves you broken…_

_You weren’t made to kill people…_

Emma wasn’t a murderer.

_We don’t have a choice…_

_Something I have to do…_

Emma wasn’t a victim.

_Are the sacrifices worth it?_

_Is it worth it?_

_Is it?_

_Is it?_

But if she wasn’t a murderer and she wasn’t a victim… what was she?

“I’m willing to do what needs to be done.” Emma spoke the words with more assurance than she felt, forcing her body to go still, breath naturally slowing to match the heightened concentration as she stared at her enemy. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand.”

With a wry grin, Regina’s hand disappeared into a fold of fabric – sensing a plan, Emma’s eyes narrowed – and reappeared clutching the drawstring of a small brown bag. “Is the heart of your huntsman a good enough bargain?”

* * *

His legs ached as they ran up the staircase.

“How do you know this is the right way?”

His head pounded as they sprinted down long corridors.

“Call it a mother’s intuition.”

His lungs burned as they called out her name.

“I hope you’re right, milady.”

But he wouldn’t stop.

“I am.”

Not until he found her.

* * *

All manner of curses ran through her mind as her heart skipped a painful beat. She should have known Regina would use Graham’s heart to her advantage in any way she could. With slow, precise steps, the queen moved to a nearby window.

“If you shoot me, I’ll toss his heart out this window with my last breath. We’re quite high now; the heart wouldn’t survive the fall.” She held out the bag, swinging it back and forth. “But if you let me borrow that sword of yours so I can finish what I started, I promise to let the huntsman go free.”

Emma stared down the length of the arrow shaft. Lined up perfectly with Regina’s own heart, it would only take a few seconds for her to die. But a few seconds would be just enough time for her to ensure Graham’s death. Damn the fact that her old bedroom had to be so high, damn the fact that Graham’s heart was being held as collateral, and damn that stupid, smug expression on Regina’s face.

“This is between you and me, Regina. If you had any sense of honor at all, you’d stop hiding behind others.”

“Oh, but I’m not hiding. This is the real world, not a fairytale. And in the real world, not everyone gets to live happily ever after. You have a choice to make – your life or his. What will it be?”

Her life or his.

Emma or Graham.

She could let loose her arrow and kill Regina. But doing that would simultaneously ensure her survival and sentence Graham to death. And in a way, Regina would win even in death because Emma would have destroyed a part of herself by killing in cold blood.

She could wait for time to run itself out. But doing that would only end in everyone’s death. Because if Regina and Emma were both to die, she knew the queen would make damn sure to dispose of Graham in the process.

She could drop the bow and allow Regina to end her life. But doing that would subject the realm to a cruel ruler once more. And there was no way of knowing for sure that her cooperation would save those she loved most.

Three options.

Three choices.

And damn how Emma was so bloody sick of choosing.

The sound of footsteps came only moments before three people burst into the room. Without lowering the bow, Emma side-stepped and glanced quickly, seeing her parents and Hook standing breathlessly just inside the doorway. She felt a swift sense of relief when they all looked none the worse for wear. But then she was focusing on the Evil Queen once more.

“Sweetheart, wait.” Her mother’s voice was pleading. “Don’t you remember what we told you?”

Regina chuckled at the request. “You and your family’s penchant for doing good never ceases to amaze me.”

“He’s here now; there are other ways.”

“No, there aren’t!” Emma snapped the words with more force than was necessary.

_Three options…_

_Three choices…_

The last thing she wanted to hear was how Hook was her true love because… well, just because. Everything felt so skewed and out of control. With her arrow trained on Regina who held Graham’s heart that belonged to a werewolf who, along with her brother, was as much a family as the ones that stood behind her insisting that the pirate that was approaching her was… her…

And none of it made a bit of sense.

Hook stopped just shy of standing next to her, but she could feel him behind her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this, love?”

Yes.

No.

Bloody hell…

“I’m still waiting, Emma.”

“How do I know you’ll keep to your word?” Turning slightly, she ignored the way Hook looked to her. She’d bet money there was a worried and questioning look upon his face.

“You don’t. But if you ask the captain, I’m certain he’ll vouch for me. After all, I did gift him with the information I promised, even if he didn’t use it in exactly the manner I’d hoped.”

There was the slight press of curved metal to her lower back, and Emma felt Hook draw close to her to speak quietly into her ear. “Think about what you’re doing, love. You are more than a murderer; you were never made for that life. But you’re no victim either.” The fact that his words mirrored her own thoughts from before didn’t escape her notice. “I don’t know what Regina has promised you…”

“My life for Graham’s heart.”

She heard Hook swallow thickly. “Don’t trust her.”

“And after all I’ve done for you.” Regina issued a sickeningly sweet grin. “Come now, Princess. If you’re unwilling to die for your friend, release your arrow because time is running out. You know it’s the only way to save him.”

“Love…”

“If I sacrificed Graham just to ensure my own survival, I’d never forgive myself. I have to…” But the words caught in her throat because she didn’t want to die either.

Then she felt her hair flutter with Hook’s deep sigh, felt his fingers touch to her hip. “But if you sacrificed your own life, I don’t know that I’d ever forgive myself.” And the words startled her so much that she looked to him sharply.

“Then what would you have me do? I can kill Regina and live with the knowledge that I selfishly chose my life over Graham’s, I can allow myself to be killed to save him, or I can stand here until time runs out in which all three of us would die.”

His eyes roved her determined face, taking in the desperateness she knew was most likely evident. In return, she studied the way his blue eyes had taken on a dull hue. The moment stretched out between them, and Emma was reminded of all the times his eyes had sparkled with liveliness. Hook, who had been constantly tossing innuendos and engaging her in playful banter, was now completely serious. And the blithe memories only made the despondence she saw in him that much more piercing.

“So you’re not planning on going willingly.” Regina’s words broke the spell between them, and Emma turned back to her. The statement wasn’t a question, it was a fact. And now Regina’s smirk was a distorted mirror image of Emma’s clenched jaw. “I guess that leaves me little choice.”

Moving quickly, the queen stepped up onto the window ledge. Instinctively, Emma’s breath quickened and she tensed, the point of the arrow following Regina’s every movement with deadly precision. What was she planning? In the background, she heard the scrape of metal as Hook drew his cutlass.

“While you may be reluctant to act, Emma, I understand the rest of your companions well enough to know they wouldn’t stand idly by and watch you die.” The way Hook stepped forward only convinced Emma of the truth in the queen’s words. He had never been opposed to murder in the way that she had. “I’m not fool enough to take all of you on without magic…” She glanced out of the open window behind her. “But if I have to die, I’m taking Emma with me; that and your precious huntsman.”

With that, Regina jumped into the open air.

And in a moment of pure, unadulterated impulse, Emma released her arrow.

Time seemed to creep to a halt.

Regina fell in slow motion, moonlight highlighting the triumphant sneer on her pale face even as her dark clothes blended into the night sky. Her mother and father simultaneously yelled while Hook stepped forward. The arrow flew straight, crossing the space and sinking into the target with a dull _thump_. And the bag containing Graham’s heart…

Swung harmlessly, dangling safely from the arrow that had pinned it against the window frame.

Time sped up again.

Regina’s leering grin shifted into outrage when the bag slipped through her fingers. Then, she fell out of sight. In the span of time it took for her arrow to leave the bow and reach the wall, Emma’s lungs had ceased operation; they’d shriveled into nothing, dried husks in her chest. But seeing Graham’s heart safe and sound, they were brought back to life with a shaky gasp.

“Emma!”

There were hands on her arms, spinning her around and drawing her into a firm embrace. There were relieved whispers in her ear and tears falling on her collarbone – she no longer knew if they were her parents’ or her own – to soak into her shirt. And over her mother’s shoulder, she caught sight of Hook standing a little ways off staring at her with an intense expression she couldn’t define.

It didn’t make sense, though…

Jumping from such a height would only kill Regina, thereby allowing Emma to live. There had to be more to her escape than appeared. So with a great deal of effort, she pulled away and darted to the window.

Emma expected to see a crumpled figure or a smear of blood on the cobblestones below. Instead, she saw the Evil Queen scramble from a conveniently placed hay wagon that had cushioned her fall and run to one of the secluded side gates nearby. Regina wrenched the gate open before looking back. Their eyes met for one long moment and then, with a wry smile, she was gone.

And Emma was still staring at the empty gate when she heard the clock toll.


	21. A Resolution

_“You will burn and you will burn out. You will be healed and come back again.”_

* * *

Someone was crying, but Emma couldn’t tell who. With the way the blood was rushing in her ears, it left little ability to hear anything else. And what little she did hear was the resonant peal of the clock announcing that midnight was only a quarter of an hour away. Staring at the gate through which Regina had disappeared while the breeze played with her hair, it all felt like a dream.

Because it couldn’t just end like this, could it? Didn’t she deserve a chance to fight?

But then she had fought, along with everyone else. People she loved, people she cared for, people she barely even knew… they’d all taken up arms against the Evil Queen. And although their actions might not have been only for her, they had been with her; united in a single cause against those that would oppress them. However, while it had been enough to vanquish Regina, it hadn’t been enough to also save Emma. So here she stood now, facing the end.

Death was so final.

Death was so… real.

All it took to die was to live.

Life, a few spell-binding words, and time.

Without warning, a raucous cheer sounded below. Emma blinked, the action drawing her gaze away from the empty gate to the rest of the courtyard, and what she saw was victory. The villagers had finally subdued the guards, forcing those that remained to huddle in the northwest corner where a werewolf paced back and forth, encouraging their continued cooperation with the occasional snarl and snapping growl. Pan, it seemed, had reappeared as well. He flew overheard, darting back and forth looking no worse for wear, and even as far away as he was, Emma could hear him spouting off jeering insults and taunts to the guards.

But victory was a bittersweet thing. Bodies littered the courtyard, both friend and foe, struck down with arrows or blades or sheer brute force. Soldiers often spoke of the events that led up to confrontations, they would explain how the rage of battle would overcome them and the glorious triumphs they’d face… but they never talked about the aftermath. No one ever explained what it felt like to look out at the battlefield and see fallen figures and twisted limbs and so much blood. Even if they did, nothing could prepare someone for what it felt like to stare down at a friend and have them stare back with glassy eyes glossed over in death.

The scenes below were so incongruous…

A man knelt beside a woman, stroking her cheek and whispering words of comfort even as life pulsed from the gash in her upper thigh. Another man caught an approaching woman in his arms mid-leap, laughing and hugging her fiercely.

An adolescent pressed a crumpled shirt to the place where a man’s forearm used to be and frantically tied a makeshift tourniquet with a belt. Another adolescent near the guards raised his sword aloft, yelling out a victory cry.

A woman cradled the lifeless body of a child to her chest and wept without shame. Another woman ran through the courtyard, desperately calling out for a loved one, and when a tiny voice responded and was swept into a bone-crushing embrace in relief, she too wept without shame.

So much violence.

So much despair.

So much love.

Emma was still numbly watching the scene below when she felt it – the slightest touch of a hand. The sunset had taken the heat of the day with it, but not even the crisp autumn night had staved off the sweat she’d worked up in the rush of the evening. Her shirt clung to her, the damp material cool against her back, but the warmth of Hook’s fingers was pervasive. It pushed away the chill and left the typical heat that always accompanied his touch in its place, making a shiver skitter through her involuntarily. And she absentmindedly thought how ironic it was that she responded to him so readily even as her mind warningly reminded her of how he’d betrayed her trust.

Then again, her body had always been traitorously eager to disobey what her mind insisted was best.

Especially when it came to Hook.

With her gaze still fixed outside, she felt more than saw him draw closer, felt the way the air shifted with his movements. No more than a foot must have separated them, not with the way the heat from his body crossed the space to seep into hers. His presence was electric, lightning and fire and energy. She could sense the particles he charged in the air, the way he owned the space, the echoes of his body near hers.

“Emma…”

He breathed her name – the soft tone was a glaring contrast to the energy pulsing through the air around them – and the word ghosted over the shell of her ear while his fingers glided up to settle between her shoulder blades. The breeze drifting through the window swirled around them, carrying with it the familiar scent of rum, leather, and sea. And no matter of convincing could discourage the visions of clanging swords atop a cliff, days spent on a white beach, and nights spent gazing at the stars that floated through her mind. Would she ever get used to the visceral effect of Hook?

“She’s gone.”

“I know.”

It took an incredible amount of effort not to turn and bury her face against his chest. Everything felt so overwhelming, completely out of her control. Powerlessness had never sat well with her. Eighteen years ago, a child wearing an elaborate dress had stood in a darkened room and decided to forsake everything she knew by taking her future into her own hands. Fate must have had a sense of humor, though, because her future was as out of her hands now as it was then.

“You…” When her voice cracked, Emma paused, drawing on every bit of strength she had left before trying again. “None of you should be here.” Her throat was thick with resignation. “I don’t want you to see this.”

Even though no one wanted to be alone when they passed away, it seemed insurmountably wrong for her parents to watch her die. Parents were never supposed to bury their children.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Her father’s stern voice insisted there would be no argument to the contrary.

It was the response she didn’t want to admit that she wanted.

“Emma, please…” There was an accompanying sniffle, and she now recognized the crying from earlier to be her mother’s quiet sobs. “Just _try_.”

The fingers against her back twitched before pressing a little harder. It was an almost imperceptible movement, but she felt it nonetheless. Emma let loose a heavy sigh, her chest caving under the weight of it. Then, her eyes lifted, gaze straying from the courtyard below to the skies above.

It was so… clear. The firmament was painted in strokes of blue that were so dark they were almost black, flowing outward and descending into deeper and deeper shades of night, the full moon hung at its zenith, casting a gentle glow, stretching out its magic to pull at the wolf in Ruby as much as the ocean tides, and the stars glimmered like diamonds amid the vast void, tragically beautiful. The beauty of it took her breath away.

Most people celebrated in the revitalizing spark that was light, but in that moment, Emma reveled in the healing depth of night. It pushed away most of the fear, brought her enough peace to where she could speak with honesty.

“I don’t want to spend my last few minutes scrambling desperately, grasping at straws.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not desperation, it’s…”

“It _is_ desperation.” She didn’t want to die with panic flooding her body and fear in her heart. Emma closed her eyes, taking in a completely different kind of darkness. “Just let me face the end with at least a small amount of dignity.”

But then the hand on her back shifted and she was being spun around. Startled by the movement, the bow slipped from her fingers to clatter against the floor and her eyes flew open; now, in the new position, she had no choice but to face Hook. His fingers gripped one shoulder tightly while his hook curved over the other. There was the slightest prick of its point against her shoulder blade, but it barely registered, consumed as she was by his expression.

His eyes were focused, narrowed, intense. They moved back and forth between her own wide ones as if searching for something even he didn’t know, like she was a problem he could figure out. And she felt exposed, completely open to him as he studied her.

“No.”

Emma blinked. It was a simple word – two letters, one syllable – but it effectively pulled her from her thoughts. However, when she realized the significance of it, her face shifted into a frown and she responded more snidely than was probably necessary.

“No?”

Hook gave a sharp nod of affirmation. “I’m not letting you face anything because I refuse to let you die.”

His statement simultaneously made her stomach flop and her heart race. But while her stomach fluttered from the intimacy of what he said, her heart raced in something closer to resentment. Because why was he _still_ fighting for her? Why couldn’t he just let her die with a shred of honor?

Emma’s eyes narrowed to match his own, although where his gaze was determined, hers was heated. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed her parents to have stepped back, retreating further into the room to give them space, but even the darkness couldn’t hide the concern etched into her father’s features or the shining moisture in her mother’s eyes. And their constant and unfailing hope that good would always succeed made her all the angrier.

So with that feeling of resentment sitting hot and heavy in her stomach, she looked back to Hook. If she were to be completely honest, the majority of her had already forgiven him, had done so when she was still being held captive in the dungeons before he’d interrupted Regina’s moment of would-be triumph. But now… now she allowed that small, traitorous part of her to take hold; the part that did nothing but remind her of exactly how much it had hurt when his indiscretions were brought to light.

At one time, she would have willingly fallen into that bitterness and let it consume her, let the fire of it fuel her rage. In more recent times, she fought it, choosing to think about more pleasant moments and the good times they’d shared. But sometimes she didn’t want to fight with herself over which side to choose; sometimes it was easier to choose to fight someone else instead. So with that thought in her mind, she directed all the anger, all the vehemence, all the hurt outwards.

“What makes you think you have any say at all in what happens to me?” She pushed away the hand and hook on her shoulder and stepped back. Lip curled in an uncharacteristic sneer, she bit the words out. “After all that’s happened, why the hell would the responsibility of taking care of me fall to you?”

“I’m not…”

“No.” Her hands were clenched by her side, fingernails digging crescent moons into her palms.

“Any claim, any stake you might have had in my life is gone. There’s nothing now. Nothing.”

Bitter, harsh, ugly words… and Emma could tell the effect they had in the way Hook’s brows lowered and the line of tension that ran through his clenched jaw.

“When I told you I’d always fight for you, I meant it. I won’t give up on you, love, not even when you’re so obviously ready to throw in the towel yourself.” Hook stepped forward calculatingly, and Emma automatically stepped back in response to maintain the distance between them. “Where’s the lass that never turned down a challenge?”

“This isn’t a drinking game or a duel, Hook. This is my life.”

“Which should give you all the more reason to fight for it.”

His voice was louder now, hovering on the verge of a shout, as if the added volume would be enough to convince her, but then his expression softened once more. When he came one more step closer, she backtracked again.

“Where’s the lass that never knew when to give up?” And when his hand reached out, she leaned away from his touch and allowed his fingers to fall through the empty air back to his side. “Where’s that… fire?”

She knew what he meant and it wasn’t the fiery rage that had coursed through her that was now bleeding out, leaving her boneless in the absence of its strength.

“Emma, please…” Her mother’s beseeching expression caught her eye. “Just think about this. He didn’t have to come here. How easy would it have been to not risk anything and pursue his vengeance? But he did return. He came back for you.”

“You need to let go of the past.”

“It’s not too late.”

“There’s no harm in trying.”

“Will you all just _stop_?”

Emma’s head lowered, gaze fixed on the tassels of a rug as she pressed her clenched fists to her temples. The green and ivory threads wound together in an intricate, geometric pattern that was so familiar her chest ached. She remembered sitting on the rug as a child, playing with toys or reading books. In fact, one of her earliest memories was stretching out to take a nap in the splash of afternoon sun that warmed the fibers. Blackness crept in at the edges of her sight, and she distantly wondered if it would be poignant or simply dramatic for her to lay down on the rug now and let the rough texture of the colored strands against her cheek be her last memory as well.

“Tell me something, love…” She didn’t lift her head, but her eyes settled on Hook’s boots of their own accord. “How often did you think of me when we were apart?”

A confused frown settled over her face. He had adopted a more lackadaisical tone for the inquiry, which made her immediately and rightfully suspicious. There was more to the question than appeared, like it was a trap or something, but just because she knew that didn’t mean she could spot it.

Slowly, her eyes lifted to his, taking in his casually crossed arms and the glint in his eyes that belied the seriousness of the situation. It reminded her of playful banter issued across the polished surface of a bar. Mentally, she shook herself. Then, after a pause, she answered in what was a – hopefully – firm voice.

“Rarely.”

Immediately, his mouth quirked and eased into an almost-smirk. “For some reason, I have a hard time believing that.” Of course he would challenge her response; what else did she expect?

“Well, that’s not my problem. Feel free to wallow in your disbelief.”

“I would, if I didn’t know you better than that.”

Emma crossed her own arms and haughtily cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” She was bluffing. And what was worse was that she knew that he knew she was bluffing. Few people probably knew her as well as Hook did.

“Aye, really.” The partial smirk was gone, exchanged for a full-blown one. “And I know for a fact that you thought about me quite often.”

“I told you it was rarely.”

Hook stepped forward. This time, however, Emma held her ground and did her best to ignore his pleased expression at her lack of retreat. “As in, every day…” One step after another, he crossed the space between them, eyes never leaving hers.

“Rarely.”

“And every night.”

“ _Rarely_.”

“ _All_ the bloody _time_.”

Finally, he came to a stop, but only because there was no more room to advance. No more than a couple feet separated them, and it took all of Emma’s willpower to remain steadfast rather than step back and restore some equality to the situation. Holding his gaze boldly, she unflinchingly lifted her chin.

“You’re wrong.”

His eyes flicked between hers. “Are you trying to convince me right now, love, or are you trying to convince yourself?” After a long moment, his attention dipped to her mouth, and her tongue instinctively – because she sure as hell didn’t tell it to – darted out to wet her lips. At the sight, she heard his breath hitch right before his expression darkened and he took one last step forward.

There was the fleeting brush of his jerkin against her chest and cool metal on her forearm and rum-scented breath across her face… then she was backtracking so quickly she tripped over her own feet, stumbling a few steps until her back connected painfully with the wall. And while she was still trying to regain her footing, he stepped forward once more, arms reaching out to the wall on either side of her to cage her in and effectively block off any hope she had of escape.

“Get away from me, Hook.” Like a trapped animal, Emma fought against him, trying to force him back. “Stop trying to intimidate me!”

After a particularly forceful shove against his chest, his hook came up to loop around her wrist and force her arm to the wall beside her head while his hand found her remaining one and forced it down to her side. She continued to struggle for a moment – where the hell were her parents and why weren’t they helping her? – but when her wiggling failed to free her and no one came to her rescue, she grew still and opted for a deadly glare.

“Why does it matter if I thought about you or not, anyway?”

“Because I find it hard to believe that you could feel nothing for me after all that we’ve gone through.”

“Thinking about you and feeling something for you are two completely different things.” Hook continued to smirk knowingly at her; one day, she’d master a glare that would actually faze him. “Even if I did think about you more than just a few times – and I’m not saying I did so stop looking at me like that – what makes you think it was anything good? Maybe I spent the time you were gone cursing the day we met.”

He nodded slightly, considering her words. “Aye, you could have done that… or maybe you took a few days to cool off and then rationally thought everything through. You’re a smart lass; you’re not someone to be forever blinded by one misdeed. You would’ve realized that everything that happened once we met was real.”

But no matter how right he might have been, Emma shook her head in denial. “I… I didn’t think about you.”

“You never were a very accomplished liar, love.”

“I didn’t think about you.” The words came out a little more insistently the second time.

Hook continued to smirk, not even bothering to disguise the fact he didn’t believe her for a second. His fingers released their hold on her hand and slowly slid up her arm. “And as for how you feel about me?” With his blue eyes boring into hers so perceptively, she had to fight the warm blush that threatened to creep up her neck and into her cheeks.

“We are _not_ having this discussion.”

“Why not?” His fingers continued to leisurely trace a pattern over her elbow and across her upper arm. “Afraid to admit something that everyone in this room is already aware of? Or is it simply that words fall short of describing your affections for me?”

Emma meant to scoff offer a sarcastic quip, but what came out instead was genuineness. “The only thing I feel for you is gratitude.” His fingers paused in their ministrations. Unable to hold his gaze, she focused on the mess of chains and medallions around his neck. “Because you did come back… you didn’t have to do that.”

That was the honest truth of it. No matter what else she believed, no matter how much she hid under the veil of denial, he had sacrificed a three hundred year old mission to come back to try and help her. It was impossible to _not_ recognize an action as significant as that.

“That’s it, then – gratitude?”

His voice had lowered to a level her parents would no longer be able to hear, and her response was just as soft. “Yes.” Her eyes fell even further, fixing on the buttons of his jerkin.

“No declarations of affections to make? No underlying fondness?”

“No.”

Hook chuckled softly. “You may not be able to lie worth a damn, but you’re stubborn as they come.” Indignation surging at his dismissal, her eyes snapped to his. Her mouth opened, but before she could refute, he continued. “Tell me that all the years we’ve spent getting to know each other, all the times we saved each other, all the nights we spent together were nothing. Tell me that those things mean nothing to you.” His hand and hook settled on her shoulders. “Tell me that _I_ mean nothing to you.”

She paused… hesitated… deliberated…

“You don’t.”

“Gods, Emma!” The weight of his hand disappeared as it slammed into the wall beside her head, making her jump. And his face was contorted in a combination of disappointment and severity.

She reacted instantly, leaning forward until less than a foot separated their faces. “Don’t yell at me!”

“You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You’ll go to your grave trying to convince yourself of something that’s not true.”

“It is the truth!”

“If you think that what we had – what we are – is nothing, you’re deluding yourself!”

They were both yelling now, loud voices contrasting starkly with their quiet ones from before. Where her parents would have been unable to hear what they were saying only moments ago, now they – and probably everyone down in the courtyard – were able to hear everything.

“And if you think that no woman is able to resist you, then you’re a pig-headed, egotistical jerk!”

Hook snorted disdainfully. “That’s rich coming from someone that willingly spent so long in my company. You never seemed to complain much before.”

But no matter the fact that what he said was the truth, her stubborn pride refused to back down. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Then her hair was being pushed aside, fingers tangling in the strands as he cupped the side of her face, eyes raking over her face. He was unwaveringly focused on her, expression so insistent, wholly determined.

“Why do you fight it?”

And then she was crying out in frustration, simultaneously fighting back and ignoring the annoying bit of moisture that pooled in the corners of her eyes.

“Why do _you_ insist it?”

And then…

“Because I love you!”

Emma forgot. She forgot how to keep her mouth from falling open in surprise. She forgot how to keep her body from trembling slightly at his proximity and touch. She forgot so many things… how to talk, how to move, how to think, how to _breathe_ …

“And damn if I don’t even bloody understand why at times.”

With a jagged exhale, he jerked and spun away from her, and Emma was left leaning against the wall for support as she stared dazedly at his back. Then her breath returned; it came heavily, chest swelling with shaky inhales and caving with shuddering exhales in the wake of his declaration. And everything felt so surreal – it hurt so _bad_ – yet so god damn perfect – it hurt so _good_ – all at the same time that she had to work hard to dredge up one last meager attempt at denial.

“You betrayed me…”

“And I would spend a thousand lifetimes atoning for my actions if only to earn your forgiveness.” His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh and Emma wondered if his heart was racing even half as fast as hers. “Do you remember the first time you met the Indians in Neverland?”

Still floundering to catch up to the situation, her mind struggled to comprehend his question. “What are you talking about?” But he didn’t turn to her or answer her question, only inquired again.

“Do you remember?”

Visions of the seemingly endless grassland arose. She could feel the warmth of the Neverland sun on the back of her neck, the tall grass brushing against the tips of her fingers. There was Tiger Lily and Great Big Little Panther and Wind Runner… and back at their camp there was exotic food and ornaments in her hair and a wild bonfire and music pounding a rhythm that made her blood sing… and her voice was soft compared to the cacophony of the memory in her mind.

“Yes.”

“Gods, I remember that day like it was only yesterday. The way you looked dancing around that fire… all those beads and feathers in your hair… I don’t think I’d ever seen you look so free. Everything was so dark that night that you looked like some kind of goddess with the way the firelight made your hair shine like gold. And I wanted to go to you, to dance with you…”

Emma felt an urge to reach out and touch Hook’s shoulder, pull him around to face her so she could see his expression as he spoke so freely about that evening. But she didn’t. Instead, it dangled uselessly at her side, fingers doing nothing more than twitching slightly at the thought of touching him.

“Do you remember what we talked about on the way back to the ship?”

“Waltzing… and Tiger Lily… and Wind Runner.” Among other things.

“Aye. You were curious about Wind Runner’s… term of endearment, and I told you what it meant.”

Kiwidinok.

Woman of the wind.

“But you said you’d call me something different. You said you’d tell me someday.” Emma recalled their conversation, remembered the way she’d pushed him away then just as she pushed him away now. Then, as if in rebellion, her body straightened away from the wall and she stepped forward. “Hook…” She knew where the line of questioning was leading now, and her heart tripped an even quicker pace. “What would you call me?”

She thought about touching him; she thought about not touching him. The distance between them was so meager, no more than a couple feet. It would take nothing to breach it. Would the hard outline of his bicep contrast with the silky texture of his shirt if she were to grasp his upper arm? Would the heat of him heal the ache in her chest if she were to rest her forehead against his back? Emma looked down to the hand that now hovered in front of her waist.

What would he do if she touched him?

What would he do if she didn’t?

Her knuckles ached from the punch she’d delivered him and her palms felt the impact of when she’d tried to push him away, but her fingertip tingled, still able to feel the rough stubble from when she’d traced the line of his jaw.

“Onida. I would call you onida.”

It was beautiful. Mysterious and foreign and almost magical in the way it floated in the air instead of falling to the ground like so many other heavier words would. And her breath fell over itself, her throat constricted, her eyes smarted with that same persistent moisture… and it was like that simple word shattered the spell that had been holding her back.

“What does it mean?” He remained silent, and Emma could see the tension that ran through his shoulders. With one step, the distance between them lessened to only a few inches. “Hook…”

Her hand lifted, reached up, touched lightly to his back while the other fingered the material at his waist. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. They were so close that if he were to inhale deeply, her forehead would come into contact with his back. Her mind insisted that she back away. But then, when had her heart and her mind and her body ever agreed on anything?

So pushing all thoughts aside, Emma leaned forward – slowly, cautiously – and laid her head against his back. She listened to his steady heartbeat, felt the gentle rise and fall of his back with every breath, fell into the warmth of him, and it was devastatingly lovely and heartbreakingly beautiful because it was _life_.

“Killian…”

At the sound of his name, the world seemed to still until there was nothing but Hook and Emma and the meaning of the word. The stillness around them was a tangible thing, as real as the heartbeat beneath her ear, as real as the clock that continued to tick away the last moments of her life. It stretched out for the longest time, eternal… and then he was moving.

He spun to face her, his hand instantly finding its home cradling her head while his hook settled at the curve of her hip, and he drew her so close she could feel the hard plane of his chest against her. But when her eyes flew open, they didn’t meet his. Instead of a strikingly blue gaze, she was met with lowered eyes, a furrowed brow, and the thin line of his mouth.

Emma watched the play of emotions across his face, and it was with a slight tremble that she finally moved the hand that had been on his back. She reached up, traced the tense muscle of his shoulder and brushed the outline of his jaw before lowering again to curl lightly at the nape of his neck.

“What does it mean?”

And when he finally looked at her, the shadows in his eyes stretched out, wound around her, and pulled her in. For a moment, she was powerless – trapped, spellbound, drowning in the darkness – while he stared at her – a little hesitant, a little fearful – but then…

“It means the one searched for.”

It was so simple, so unassuming, so intimate, so…

Perfect.

“There were so many times I lost my way… lost myself… but then I met you… I just knew… Emma, I’ve spent my entire life looking for you.”

Emma exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding, and in it were a thousand and one things she couldn’t put words to. Because it was impossible to describe how she saw the world in such sharper clarity when she was by his side at the helm of the Jolly Roger or the way her fingers knew the contours of his body in more detail than her eyes or how the wicked point of a hook made her feel more at home than an inviting hand or the way his smirk made her think of adventure and the sea and life itself.

Another gust of wind caressed her skin, and as the breeze drifted away, it took the stubbornness of her heart with it. The weight in her chest lifted while her heart soared. And Emma considered that perhaps that was the inherent power in forgiveness, the freedom it brought.

Because she did forgive him.

Time was wasted in trying to rationalize because there was no rationalization. There was nothing more than knowing that she no longer cared what his past contained or what he’d done; none of it mattered anymore because he’d come back. Hook had abandoned three hundred years of resolve for her, had moved past the hurt of a murdered love for her, had been willing to die for her.

Emma smiled faintly, delicately, genuinely and watched as the shadows in his eyes withdrew and the corners of his mouth lifted in a mirror image of her own. But just when she was about to lean forward – she no longer cared whether it was to simply press her forehead to his or her lips to his – a peal reverberated through the silence.

Startled, she turned towards the sound, looked through the window. Midnight. Another toll rang out and drowned out the sound her parents’ exclamation.

She couldn’t do anything but stare at the hands of the clock… she couldn’t think about anything except whether death was painful… she couldn’t do anything… she couldn’t think about anything… she couldn’t do… she couldn’t think… she couldn’t…

“Emma…”

She blinked.

“Love…”

Hook’s fingers touched lightly to her chin and pulled her focus back to him. And the only thought she had – just like her first thought of him all those years ago in Tortuga – was that his eyes were so very blue.

“It’s not like it would be our first, love.”

The strokes of midnight continued to slip by. Emma pressed her hands flat to his chest, eyes dipping to his lips before returning to his.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

What if after all their efforts, all their struggles, all their hardships, it still wasn’t enough? What if true love’s kiss wasn’t enough to break the curse? Or what if their kiss wasn’t true love’s kiss at all?

But then he flashed his trademark smirk, that simple quirk of his lips that never failed to set her heart racing. His hand was warm, touch gentle as he brushed a thumb across the arch of her cheekbone.

“What if it does?”

And it seemed impossible how, in that moment, she felt so… so… _alive_.

With his windswept hair and carefree grin and wild nature and determined spirit, Hook was so like the sea. And if he was the sea, then she was just a girl who loved the waves but was completely terrified to swim. But on the other side of fear was freedom, and it was almost beautiful the way he put her insecurities to rest. The way he looked into her and simultaneously smothered the fears she kept coiled in her bones and ignited the dreams she kept hidden in her heart.

They were so different in so many ways… yet so similar, at the same time. And they worked well together, fit together. Her mother would say they were meant to be, but maybe it was more that they were meant to save each other. Because they had, in both a figurative and literal sense.

Together, they balanced each other out, smoothed away the sharp edges, brought peace to what was once a painful past. They had been reborn in each other’s eyes. And maybe that was what love was – the taste of revival over and over again, like the sun when it rises in fire from the sea.

Love.

And she _knew_.

Love.

And she wanted to _say_ _it_.

Her mouth slipped open, the declaration on the tip of her tongue.

“Killian, I…”

A finger pressed to her lips; such a simple touch. It effectively cut off her words, but for once, she didn’t care.

“I know, love.” She saw the way his smirk widened, caught the charismatic wink he gave her, and tried and failed to hide her own smile as she shook her head slightly in mock exasperation at the response that was so very like him. “And it’s about bloody time.”

Then his lips were on hers.

For one timeless moment there was nothing but the two of them. Him and her. Hook and Emma. There was his hand against the back of her head, her arms around his neck, his contented exhale against her cheek, her body pressed to his. There was the last toll of the clock that echoed around the room before fading into silence.

There was nothing.

But then there was everything.

There was a swelling in her chest; a warm, effervescent, vibrant sensation that lifted away a weight she hadn’t even realized had been there. It took her breath away and had her mouth not been already occupied in a kiss, she would have gasped. There was so much pressure and so much energy and so much _life_ …

Once, when she was only a small child, she’d asked her grandmother what love was. Sitting beneath the shade of an oak tree with bark rough against their backs and grass soft beneath their hands, her grandmother had explained that love was giving all of oneself without expecting anything in return. Confused, she’d scrunched up her nose and questioned how a person knew they were in love, how people knew when it was right.

Emma could still remember the way her grandmother had turned her head to smile down at her; she could still feel the soft wrinkles of her skin when one of her hands settled over her own.

_“You just… know. Some people say that love is peaceful and temperate, but I think it’s dramatic and passionate. A good love is one that casts you out into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire. You run and you run and you can’t stop running simply because you keep burning everything that you touch. That’s a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it.”_

And when the kiss ended, when she caught her breath, when her heart continued to beat with life, when she pulled back to stare into the ocean that was Hook’s eyes, Emma thought that this… this was a good love.


	22. An Interlude

_“She feels in italics and thinks in capitals.”_

* * *

There were hugs… the kind that steal a person’s breath with their intensity.

And there were tears… happy ones accompanied by relieved laughter and beaming smiles.

Her mother was rambling almost incoherently in her excitement and holding her face tightly between her hands while her father blinked rapidly at the tears in his eyes and hugged the pair of them fiercely, but through all of the embraces and exclamations, she always managed to find Hook. After the kiss had ended, he’d stepped back; although, he really didn’t have much of a choice, not with the way her mother had darted forward when they realized the curse had been broken.

He’d melted into the background, giving her parents their time of rejoicing with her, but no manner of darkness could hide him. Not from Emma. Over her mother’s shoulder, beneath her father’s arm… her eyes always seemed to settle on him. And he watched her in return, eyes bright, a smile playing at his lips.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it…” The phrase was repeated over and over, and Emma couldn’t help but feel grateful that at least her mother wasn’t saying ‘I told you so’ instead.

Time – something that had been so important only minutes ago – now had no bearing. None of them knew how much of it passed; none of them cared. All they knew was that time itself didn’t matter anymore, and they could delight in the moment for as long as they wished. And they did with hugs and tears and shy smiles.

Without warning, stumbling footsteps and a dull thud came from the doorway. Her parents turned at the sound, effectively blocking her view, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Hook stride forward to stand in front of Emma and her family, drawing his cutlass as he went.

“I’d stay where you are, mate. Just a suggestion.”

Immediately, Emma stepped around her parents expecting to see a few remaining members of Regina’s guard only to see Graham leaning wearily against the door. Still a little stunned from everything that had happened, she could do nothing but stare at him for a moment.

His hair and clothes were still disheveled from their earlier fight, the beginnings of a bruise was forming at his left temple, and while the bleeding from the cut on his forehead had stopped, there were still sickeningly red streaks of dried blood down his face and neck. At first glance his appearance was somewhat frightening, like a killer having tracked down its prey, but a second glance revealed no sign of murder in his eyes. In fact, his entire countenance was the complete opposite of his single-minded intent from before; now it was one of fear more than anything.

They stood in an uneasy silence, the only sound being Graham’s heavy breathing as he stared at each of them in turn. When his eyes finally landed on her, she watched them deepen and turn down at the corners, noticed the way his brows pulled together in obvious sorrow. And when one of his hands reached up to clutch at his chest, Emma mirrored his action and stepped forward in response.

“Careful, love.” The hook looped around her elbow brought her up short. “It doesn’t take much to figure out what happened in that hallway.”

She glanced from the appendage holding her back to Hook to Graham in quick succession. Hook was apparently still worried about Graham being under the control of Regina, regardless of whether the queen was there or not. But there was a solution. She dashed away to the back of the room. The arrow was quickly ripped from the window frame, and handling the bag and its contents carefully, she returned to Hook’s side. Graham remained by the door – thankfully, he was now standing on his own and some color had returned to his face – watching them in part-earnest and part-caution.

Slowly, she pulled the drawstrings, the fabric parted, and it was with a kind of morbid fascination that she observed the glowing, beating heart inside.

“Do you know how to put it back?” Her mother placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder, peeking over it and into the bag as well.

“No…” It wasn’t like she was exactly familiar with the removal and replacement of people’s still-beating hearts. Emma’s eyes flicked up to find Hook’s already on her. “Do you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you just…” He made a motion towards her chest. “Stick it back in.”

Like it was nothing more serious than deciding what clothes to wear for the day. They were just getting ready to push Graham’s _heart_ back into his _chest_ where it should have been _all along_. No big deal or anything.

“Does he have to do it himself?”

Emma was still waiting for Hook to give her an answer when her father chimed in. “What if something goes wrong?”

And then her mother. “What if he dies?”

“I don’t think he would die unless you accidentally crushed it.”

“Well, _that’s_ reassuring.”

“You do know I can hear everything you’re saying, right?” In unison, they all turned to the huntsman. “I’m missing my heart, not my ears. And it’s strange enough that Emma’s holding my heart; let’s not add all of you talking about me dying as if I wasn’t here to the mix.”

If not for the glowing organ that currently sat in her cupped hands, Emma would have covered her face in exasperation. Trust them to handle a delicate situation with as little tact as possible.

Hands raised in the universal sign of surrender, Graham entered the room. His focus shifted back and forth between Emma and the sharp point of Hook’s cutlass that was still extended in his direction. Thankfully, though, Graham’s quip seemed to convince Hook that he wasn’t going to try and kill them anytime soon, since he was allowed to approach without incident. When he stopped in front of them, he offered her a drained smile before looking down to his heart.

“So that’s it, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we should… try it?”

It would’ve been nice if Graham had said it with a little more confidence. Her hands were trembling badly enough without knowing he was apprehensive as well. But what other choice did they have?

“Do you want to…?” Emma held out the bag only for the huntsman to immediately push it back towards her.

“I think it would be better if someone else did it.” Yes, it _would_ be unnerving for a person to have to plunge their own heart back into their chest. Graham glanced down at her hands. “Maybe not you, though, Emma; you’re shaking already. Who has the steadiest hands?”

It was a simple question made bizarre under the circumstances, and Hook chuckled beside her. But it was her father that reached out and pulled the bag from Emma’s hands. “I’ll do it.” And the way he looked a thousand times more assured than she felt in that moment was reassuring.

Out of the bag, the heart glowed eerily in the dark room, casting shadows on their faces and highlighting everything else a bright red. Emma, Hook, and her mother stood on either side of the two men as they squared off.

Her father took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

Graham clenched his jaw and nodded.

Then Emma blinked and her father’s hand was buried in Graham’s chest. There was a split second in which the huntsman sucked in a harsh breath and Emma felt a flash of fear… but then her father was pulling back a hand that was now empty and Graham was still alive and her mother was almost jumping in excitement, and Emma felt so relieved that she wanted to throw her arms around the huntsman but was too afraid of hurting him so she pulled Hook into a crushing hug instead.

“What are you hugging him for? He didn’t do anything.”

Graham’s combined joke and perfectly healthy smile had her jumping forward to finally crush him in a hug as well. Eventually, they separated, but his hands remained firm on her upper arms as he worriedly asked. “You’re alright?” She nodded breathlessly. “And Ruby?”

“She’s alive and well.” Emma could literally see the lines of tension loosen. “Last I saw, she was helping keep watch on what’s left of Regina’s men.”

As a werewolf…

She had no idea whether or not Graham was aware of Ruby’s… was it a problem? A situation? She eventually settled on condition.

At the reminder that the world consisted of more than their relieved celebration, her mother stepped forward. “Speaking of which, we should go down and check on everyone.” They followed her gentle prodding as she ushered them out of the room.

Their descent through the palace was filled with private conversations. Her parents led the way, but their heads were pulled together as they discussed something in intense, hushed tones. Bringing up the rear were Emma and Graham, him nervously asking questions as to what all he’d done while under Regina’s control – he paled considerably when they passed the wreckage in the hallway where the two of them had fought – and her easing his worries the best she could with what she knew. Hook was the only one that remained silent, quietly bringing up the middle and most likely eavesdropping on both sets of conversations.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the main doors to the palace that Emma couldn’t take it any longer. Just as her parents opened the doors, she roughly yanked Graham to the side. “I have to tell you something about Ruby before you go out there.” Deep breaths… nothing to be nervous about… she was just about to reveal information that could potentially ruin the best thing that had ever happened to the barmaid. “The reason she’s been able to guard Regina’s men so well is because she’s…”

“A werewolf?”

The words died in her throat as her mouth fell open. “You… you _knew_?”

His boyish grin answered the question on its own. “She told me a while back. I’ve never seen her… you know…” He gestured over his shoulder towards the courtyard. “But I’m not going to give up and leave her for something that’s beyond her control.”

Emma, still floundering for the right words to say, shook her head in astonishment. And when words continued to fail her, she did the only thing she could do – return the huntsman’s smile, pat him on the arm, and lead him back to the rest of their party still standing at the partially open door.

There was a slight pause, a collective deep breath… then, the doors were thrown wide and they entered the courtyard to raucous cheering.

Her parents moved forward, allowing the people to embrace them, but the other three hung back, sticking to the outskirts of the crowd. Some of the villagers spotted them – a few even came over to greet and congratulate them – but they focused on their king and queen, for the most part. Gradually, the crowd drifted far enough away to reveal what remained of Regina’s guards and the massive animal that guarded them.

“Well, go on.” She gave him a slight nudge when Graham remained motionless at her side. “Go get her.”

He stepped forward with halting, jerky movements. It was possible he was unsure of the wisdom in approaching a werewolf, or he could’ve just been in shock at seeing Ruby safe and sound; either way, he continued towards her, stopping only long enough to retrieve the signature red cloak from where it lay by the wall.

“You trust a werewolf not to attack him, love?”

“No…” The animal’s ears pricked, hearing the approaching footsteps, and it turned with bared teeth and a snarl, effectively stopping Graham in his tracks. There was a long second where they did nothing except face off, but then the huntsman lifted the cloak and the snarl slipped away to be replaced by a lolling tongue. “I trust my _friend_ not to attack him.”

They continued to watch as they approached each other, as Ruby’s head bumped his outstretched hand affectionately, as Graham flicked out the cloak and let it fall over her body, as the cloak consumed a form that was now significantly smaller and more delicate than before. And when the hood fell back to reveal a pale face, dark curls, and a red-lipped grin, Graham very nearly consumed her in a bone-crushing embrace and kiss.

“And so everyone lived happily ever after.”

“Hmm…” Watching Ruby and Graham brought a smile to her face, unbidden.

But that smile fell flat just as quickly when her attention drifted from the blissful couple to the carnage that marred the rest of the area. Fatal wounds, glassy eyes, blood. Death. She wasn’t trying to be pessimistic when she had so much to be grateful for but…

“I don’t know if I believe in happy endings.”

Because when was life ever without problems?

No matter how perfect things may seem, there would always be something that would arise to mar the perfection. In the end, real life offered too much pain and hurt and sadness for a true happily ever after.

“I don’t think I do either, now that you mention it.” Surprised, she turned to him; however, he continued to face forward, leaving her to study him in profile. “But sometimes we can get close enough to where it’s hard to tell the difference.”

In its own way, what Hook said was true. All those difficult moments that came up could never be considered easy, but sometimes the good outweighed the bad and made it all worth it. And if the good was really that good, then the bad would never seem quite so bad.

Emma smiled.

Hook turned to her and smirked.

She thought about kissing him – thought _really hard_ about kissing him – but before she could close the space between them, it was occupied by Pan’s grinning face. Of course, they would be interrupted.

“So it worked!” Stepping away from each other, they allowed the boy to lower himself to the ground between them. “What a great idea it was to rescue you! Oh, the cleverness of me!”

“You didn’t come up with the plan, lad.” Frowning, Hook glanced at her. “He didn’t come up with that plan.”

“Prove it, pirate!” Which only made Hook’s frown deepen and Emma work to stifle her chuckle.

Pan, however, continued to… preen was only thing that seemed to fit. His chest puffed out dramatically while he took a few boastful steps back and forth between them. Just when Emma thought Hook had had enough, she cut off the boy’s display. “Did you give up watching the guards?”

“I didn’t give up, Mother. Those people told me to tell you that they need to talk to you.” He haphazardly pointed to a group standing furtively in a far corner of the courtyard. “They said it was important.”

“Oh… thanks.” She snuck a sideways glance at Hook, and when he tilted his head towards the group, she nodded her agreement. But first… “You should stay over there with the guards, Pan. I’d hate for any of them to get loose, but I know that won’t happen with you there.”

Pan took it hook, line, and sinker. If possible, his chest swelled even more than before, and he perched his hands gamely on his hips to offer a beaming grin. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll show ‘em who’s boss.” Then, he was flying away, and after a moment, she could hear him antagonizing the captive men in the distance.

They were over halfway across the space, weaving between some of the villagers, when Hook spoke with a casual tone. “You’re good with him.”

“What?”

He caught her confused gaze and nodded in Pan’s direction. “The lad. For the most part, he’s too unruly and just grates on my nerves, but you… you’ve got a knack for handling him.” Emma didn’t quite know how to take that, and was still staring at Hook in bewilderment when he winked at her. “That’s a compliment, love.”

She didn’t get a chance to respond because then they were standing at the rear of the gathering. The conversation was muddy and indistinct and impossible to comprehend as some attempted to talk to the entire group while others carried their own discussion in smaller sets. She watched the scene for a moment before calling out.

“What’s going on?”

The group silenced and turned collectively to look back at Emma and Hook. There were several familiar faces – her parents, August, a few of the dwarves – but there were also many that she didn’t know – the one they called Robin Hook, what looked like some of his men, the oriental warrior.

“We’re talking about the Evil Queen and your pirate’s friend, Rumplestiltskin.”

Hook’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Grumpy. “Deals don’t make friends, mate.”

“Well, they don’t exactly make enemies, either.”

“I think I just proved where my allegiance lies, don’t you think?”

“Boys…” Her mother shot the two men a sharp look – Emma also placed a hand lightly on Hook’s forearm for good measure – before speaking to everyone. “We’re here to figure out whether the two of them will be a threat to us in the future as they were in the past.”

Immediately, everyone broke out in jumbled talking once again but was silenced when her father whistled loudly. “Let’s keep this on track, people; one at a time. Now – should we worry about Rumplestiltskin?”

“He’s terrorized the lands before…”

“If we thought _Regina_ was bad…”

“Now there’s nothing to stop him…”

“Where did he even _go_?”

Beside her, Emma felt Hook sigh. “The imp won’t be bothering you anymore.” Everyone focused on Hook in silence before the warrior – Mulan, that’s what Robin had called her – voiced the question on all their minds.

“How do you know that?”

“Because he has what he wants. Part of our deal was that I return two things to him that he prizes deeply. The dagger gives him control of his power, but the lass is the one that holds him in place. As long as Belle is around, he won’t bother anyone.”

Emma could literally watch everyone process the information and digest the idea that the Dark One wouldn’t be a problem before slowly turning back to face her parents. Thankfully enough, Hook’s answer seemed to placate the issue… for now.

Her father gave an almost imperceptible nod to Hook as her mother took the lead. “And Regina?”

The Evil Queen, on the other hand, was a different issue altogether. Just the mention of her had a stiff tension filling the air. Once again, Hook stepped forward to explain exactly what had happened – how Rumplestiltskin had used the cuff to bind Regina’s magic and how he was the only one with the power to remove it. Unlike the Dark One, though, the people weren’t as willing to let Regina go free.

Doc stepped forward. “Trusting the queen to take this lying down and live out her days without finding a way to break the cuff and come after us again is like trusting a dragon to light the fire in your hearth without sending your whole home up in flames.”

“Basically, it’s impossible.”

“Then we need to go after her.” Grumpy’s suggestion was accompanied by a shake of his fist. “We’ll find her, bring her back, and lock her away where she can’t hurt anyone ever again.” A large part of the group yelled in support.

“It just seems so wrong…” Of course it would be her mother to have doubts. “We would sentence her to spend the rest of her life in the dungeons?” Her mother’s tender heart would never cease to amaze Emma.

“Snow, you know Regina better than any of us. You know she’ll never stop. Even without her magic, she could find a way.”

Her parents were still staring at each other in silence when Robin picked up where they’d left off. “We’ll need to track her down.”

“Who would go?”

“My men and I would gladly lead the way.” The master archer gestured to the men around him as well as those stationed around the captive guards before turning to face Hook. “We wouldn’t turn down the aid of someone that could think like her, though.” He grinned. “No offense, _mate_.”

Hook smirked in response. “None taken, _mate_.”

“I’ll go, as well.” Mulan called out, followed by a few others willing to join in.

The conversation continued around them, but Emma no longer kept up with it. Instead, she stared at Hook, taken aback by the possibility of him leaving to search for Regina. Granted, he hadn’t specifically _said_ he would accompany them, but…

Feeling her gaze, he turned to her. The world condensed, narrowing until it was just the two of them. Hook and Emma. Him and Her. And even though he hadn’t spoken his agreement, she knew it all the same. The dark hue of his eyes and the unusual lack of sparkle said it all.

He would go with them.

“So we’re in agreement, then?” Approving voices rang out in response to her father’s question. “Good, then we’ll leave in three days’ time at midday.”

He would leave.

* * *

By the time their discussion had ended, the sky was brightening with the coming sunrise. There would be no rest for the weary, though, not when there was so much that needed to be done. The day ended up being a rush, which, if nothing else, kept Emma from realizing how exhausted she really was.

People crowded the castle with injuries to tend to, the village and the courtyard were a mess of debris and wreckage that needed to be cleaned up, and amongst the mess were the remains of those that had fallen in battle. The corpses made her stomach roil, but Emma had insisted on helping outside. Her parents had maintained that it wasn’t her responsibility, but really it was.

After all, if not for Emma and her curse, they would probably still be alive.

So while her parents and Ruby helped with those that were injured, August, Graham, Hook, and Emma joined those collecting the bodies. They labored under the warm sun, carting them off to the graves being dug outside of town. It was grim work – more than once, she’d been forced to bury her nose in her sleeve to block out the pervasive stench and stave off the heaving she felt in her stomach – but she refused to move to something easier.

It was late when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her father.

“That’s enough for today. Come inside.”

She wondered if he could see the anguish in her eyes. She wondered if he could taste death on the air. She wondered if he was aware that she was holding a severed arm at that very moment.

If so, it didn’t show.

Stoic and composed, he waited for her to deposit the limb onto the cart before walking her back to the castle. He said something along the lines of her going with him to eat, but she refused, the thought of food making the nauseous feeling in her stomach all the worse. Instead, she accepted his reluctant nod and trudged up the steps to the baths in a daze. Closing the door, she was pleasantly surprised to find the bath already filled with steaming water, so with a silent thank you to the palace staff, she hurriedly stripped off her clothing and sunk into its warmth.

She remained there for a good while, long enough for the water to cool and the skin of her fingers and toes to prune. It wasn’t until the bath had washed – she’d also vigorously scrubbed until her skin turned pink – away all the traces of the day that she finally rose and wrapped herself in the plush towel.

So feeling fully soothed, clean, and utterly relaxed at last, she dressed and opened the door only to jump in surprise when she saw her parents and Hook directly outside.

“Um…” Emma took in her parents’ smiles before looking to Hook, instantly blushing at his arched brow and appraising gaze. Why hadn’t she opted for sleeping clothes that provided a bit more coverage? “Hey.” She winced mentally at her ineloquent greeting and tried to recover. “Did you need the baths?”

“Your father and I are going to straighten up some first. Killian already used the one in the north wing.”

Her attention drifted from the pirate’s self-assured expression to his damp, tousled hair – why did he always have to be so unfailingly attractive? – and offhandedly mentioned. “Lucky. That’s the nicest bath in the castle. It was always saved for other visiting dignitaries.”

“Aye, just a bit nicer than those offered aboard the Jolly Roger.” It wasn’t easy to forget the virtually nonexistent bathing facilities on the ship. “The only thing that could have made the bath better would’ve been the company…”

“We were just showing Killian to his room.” Emma had never heard her father cut someone off so quickly or with such insistence, but the interruption only made Hook smile wider.

“I was just going to say it would’ve been nice to have the company of…”

It was clear from his panicked expression that her father was desperately trying to avoid hearing certain things about his only daughter. “If you’ll follow us, it’s right this way.” Even Emma was a little taken aback by the potential direction the pirate was heading.

“The company of a handled scrub.” Her parents turned to Hook, then, clearly having expected something far worse than the innocent request. However, he managed to remain composed in the face of their slack-jawed expressions. “You know, so I could better scrub those difficult to reach places.”

They all stood there in silence – Hook successfully hiding a smirk as he stared at the royals, her parents unsuccessfully hiding their surprise as they gaped back at him, and Emma just shaking her head at Hook’s antics – until finally her mother managed to speak. “We’ll… um… remember that in the future. Your room is down the hall, third door on the left.”

Immediately, Hook transitioned into charming pirate mode, leaning forward in a bow and winking at her mother when he lifted his head. “Thank you, milady.” And the way her father’s face turned a peculiar shade of red had Emma’s shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.

“Come on, Snow.” Her father steered her mother away from Hook and towards her. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” There was a brief hug from each of them, a look of warning from her father, and a look that was decidedly less like a warning and more like encouragement from her mother before they retreated to their own quarters.

Emma stared at the closed door long after the echoing click of it shutting had faded. The only sound in the quiet hallways was the occasional splat from the few locks of her hair had fallen over her shoulder to drip water onto the floor.

“You don’t think I offended them, do you?” Mild confusion pulled her brows together as she focused on him. “I didn’t realize they would so shocked by me wanting a handled scrub.”

Emma snorted and began to make her way down the hall, Hook falling into step beside her. “Like that’s what you wanted.”

“Ever doubtful of my intentions, I see.” The disbelieving look she shot his way did little to discourage him. “I’ve always scrubbed my back with my left arm because it’s easier, but it’s hard to do that with one of your parents’ washcloths without poking a hole in it. You remember that handy device I made that fit on my hook…” He paused, waiting for her response, but when she didn’t say anything, he continued on with a shrug. “That device made it so easy to bathe. That’s why something with a longer reach would’ve been nice.”

“So, a handled scrub?” Emma stopped before her door, turning to face him. “That’s all that would make your current stay in the palace perfect?”

“Aye…”

Wait for it.

“Although, I wouldn’t have turned down your company, either, love.”

There it was.

For the second time since leaving the bath, she shook her head in amusement. Typical Hook. “I think that’s what my parents were expecting to hear.”

“I _know_ that’s what they were expecting to hear.” Which they both knew was the truth. He’d known exactly the type of reaction his words would cause and had probably enjoyed their discomfort immensely. Still, it was unusual that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation.

“I’m surprised…” Expectantly, he looked to her. “After not being able to insinuate anything to me for so long, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to contain yourself, even in front of my parents.”

Feigning affront, Hook crossed his arms. “I’ll have you know, I have a staggering amount of self-control.” She raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “I just choose not to use it very often.”

“Now _that_ I believe.” Emma finally gave into the laughter, letting a quiet chuckle slip out at his pleased smirk. When it died off and he continued to stand there, though, she nodded back down the hall. “You passed your room.”

After a purposefully long, slow look over his shoulder, he dipped his head in agreement. “I know.” Once again, she blushed.

Of course he would know.

Of course he would intentionally pass it by.

Of course he wouldn’t allow the first real moment they’d had to be alone since reuniting to pass by.

And how was it that two simple words could imply so much?

Gradually, the comfortable silence that filled the space between them began to edge towards something marginally more… suggestive. But it was hard to place her finger on what exactly it was. Maybe it was the way his smirk fell into seriousness or the way his eyes darkened from the soft blue of the morning sky to the searing blue at the center of a flame or the way his fingers twitched with what she imagined was the desire to reach out to her. Whatever the reason, when Hook took a bold step forward into her personal space, she could no longer hold his gaze.

Swallowing hard, she let her eyes fall to watch her fingers toy with the frayed end of the towel in her hands as she nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The thread was coaxed from its stitching, growing longer by the second, but no matter how sternly she tried to focus on the unravelling material, all she could really think about was how her body was nearly humming with a need to touch him. Where she had felt exhausted and ready to collapse before, now, she felt nothing but nervous anticipation electrifying every nerve in her body.

When she noticed him take another step forward, she hesitantly lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“So…”

“So.” And the way he said it all slow and husky sent a jolt straight through her. His tone spoke of darkened rooms and panting breaths and twisted sheets and passion and…

Emma couldn’t think anymore. But no, that wasn’t right; it wasn’t so much couldn’t as wouldn’t because she _refused_ to think. Thinking was too time-consuming, required too much energy, and was altogether unnecessary when the only thing that seemed to be important right then was not thinking and simply feeling. Because after everything they’d been through, she wanted nothing more than to just let go.

Really, there was something to be said for the bond they’d forged through getting to know each other… losing each other… finding each other… loving each other. She’d been dying of thirst in the time they were apart. Now, she wanted nothing more than fall into him, drown in him. And in the hollow of her chest, Emma felt the dark, hungry thunder of her heart.

Yes, thinking was definitely overrated.

So with something that might have been confidence but was more likely reckless abandon, Emma dropped the crumpled towel and clothes in her hands, reached out to fist her hands in his silken shirt, and pulled him to her.

It felt like coming home.

But at the same time, it felt like she never left because every inch of him was exactly as she’d remembered.

The exact softness of his hair when she threaded her hands through it… the hard, contoured planes of his body that forced her to the wall… the coarse texture of his stubble against her cheek… the firm press of fingers and cool metal at her hips… the muscles that tensed beneath her fingernails when she drew them down his back… the taste of his mouth… and _gods_ , his mouth… the way it moved against hers, demanding and hot and so, so urgent.

Unable to help herself, Emma made a soft, pleading noise and twined her arms around his neck, and he responded, looping his arms low on her waist and pulling her so firmly against him that it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began. The sensations were almost more than she could stand. Her skin was electrified, felt too tight, was burning with the feeling of him.

Tongue escaping to flick against his mouth, she reveled in the dark, clean taste of him as his lips parted and he tangled his tongue with hers. Their mouths worked in tandem even as her hands worked their way down to his shirt, deftly slipping open the clasps. She eased the fabric open – just a little further – and then her trembling hands were brushing against bare skin, snaking between his body and his clothes, slipping over the firm muscles of his chest.

She felt his breath catch in his throat, felt the subsequent groan against her lips when he recovered.

He broke away from her then, and the loss of him was almost painful. Reaching around her, he opened the door to her bedroom and walked her backwards until the darkness of the room swallowed them. The click of the closing door sounded so distant, consumed as she was by Hook’s expression. She could read his intentions in his dilated eyes, the blue only a thin ring around its dark promise.

Her hands pushed the shirt over his shoulders to fall to the floor, and she felt a low rumble race through this chest. Then he was back. He held her close, and she couldn’t contain her moan as he pulled her hips to his in a primal urgency, his mouth lowering to work feverishly at her neck.

Stumbling across the room, they shed their clothing quickly, leaving the items in a trail across the room. In the vaguely functioning part of her brain that wasn’t devoured by Hook, she realized they’d left their towels and other clothes in a pile outside her room. People would see; in the morning her parents and the palace staff would find them and know… but then, the clothes they’d been wearing were gone and it was skin against skin and it all felt so god damned perfect that she didn’t care who knew what had obviously transpired between them.

Maybe tomorrow she would be embarrassed.

Maybe tomorrow she would blush madly.

But right now…

Right now, she would let Hook guide her to the bed. Right now, she would fall back onto the mattress when the edge of it nudged the back of her knees. Right now, she would observe the way his eyes darkened as he kneeled on the edge of the bed to lean over her, staring down and taking in every inch, ever detail, of her body with something akin to awe.

His hand was flat against her stomach, pushing upwards in an achingly slow motion. It dipped through the valley between breasts, eased over the delicate lines of her collarbone, traced the arching path of her neck. And when he smoothed his fingers over her jaw, Emma reached up, caught his hand, and pulled him forward. He lowered, settling onto his elbows on either side of her, and she could feel his thigh press against the place where she burned for him.

Instead of alleviating the pressure, though, the ache at her core only intensified, and she raked her fingernails down his back in response. To her pleasure, Hook issued a strangled groan into the crook of her neck, his hips rocking forward instinctively, pressing his firm erection against her thigh.

Closing her eyes, she was aware of his hand ghosting down her side, following the gentle curve of her hip, sliding over and down and into the darkness between her legs. And when he slowly, deliberately, pressed one long finger against her, she whimpered at the sensation.

“Please…” She was gasping, barely even aware of her own voice. “Killian, please.”

He panted heavily, hot breath brushing over her ear, and Emma could feel the way his body trembled as he struggled for control. Still, restraint had never really been their forte. So when he pulled away slightly, she reached between them and closed her hand around the length of him.

“Yes…” His voice was a hiss against her skin.

And when she gave one long, unhurried stroke, she felt rather than heard his moan, felt his elbow slip against the sheets as his hook came down to brace over her shoulder, felt the way he curled around her, into her.

“Gods, Emma…” His voice sounded hoarse with need as he captured her lips in a starving kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

The look on his face turned so desperately tender that she didn’t even realize it had stopped her movements. Her hand remained around him as his fingers traced the shell of her ear, but she was frozen by his expression… until he closed his eyes and slowly thrust, the slick skin of him gliding easily through her fingers.

The world briefly faded in and out.

Then she was winding her legs around him and guiding him to her. When he opened his eyes, she met his gaze, hoping that he could see even an inkling of the emotion that raged through her in that moment. Something like understanding. Or trust. Or love.

And she wanted him so badly, but she couldn’t even speak…

Could only tighten her hold around his hips…

Could only lift her own in encouragement…

Then he was inside her, filling her completely. And there was nothing between them anymore – no disconnection, no past, no future, no space, no thought – just… this.

It was like nothing she’d ever experienced with him before. The change was impossible to put words to. It wasn’t two people being made whole; it wasn’t an end or a beginning or anything in between. It was just… the way it was. Because he’d been a part of her for so long that everything was just unapologetically, irrevocably, effortlessly right.

She struggled for air.

He felt so good, so incredibly good.

And above her, his breath came in shallow, yearning huffs.

Emma was dying. Surely, she was dying because it was all too much. Between him brushing against that perfect spot with each deep thrust and the way he was growling her name, she couldn’t handle the pressure within her. It roared and grew and burned, and she blazed in return, bright and dark and…

Her legs tightened, drawing him into the rippling shudder of her body that reached through and pulled him to his own end as well, his hips snapping to hers one more time as he poured into her.

Later, when their heavy breaths had eased and their hearts had calmed their racing rhythm, the ability to think returned to her.

His skin was cool under her cheek, and she could feel how the muscles of his shoulder tensed and rolled near her temple as his fingers stroked her back. Curling even further into his side, she let her own fingers trace the contours of his skin, the lines of lean muscle. It was in that timeless moment between one breath and the next that she whispered.

“I love you.”

The movements paused. His breath hitched.

And before his fingers resumed their meandering dance across her spine, he turned to press his lips to her forehead and said softly back. “I love you, too, love.”

Emma fell asleep listening to the cadence of their hearts.

* * *

Three days passed in the blink of an eye, the span of a breath. The time was filled with cleaning, planning, and organizing, but when she wasn’t preoccupied with other responsibilities or duties, Emma’s time was filled with Hook. And so the minutes flew by, and when the sun broke the horizon that last morning, it spilled light and heat that illuminated a clear sky filled with puffy clouds, chased away the cool chill of night, and inspired all manner of birds to greet the dawn with song.

Emma would have said it was beautiful were it not for the way it completely contradicted the solemn weight that had settled in her chest.

Instead, she relished those last few moments. Closing her eyes, she focused on the gentle rise and fall of the chest pressed to her back, the exhales that brushed the nape of her neck and stirred her hair, the comfortable weight of the arm over her waist the kept her close. It would’ve been perfect for time to freeze right then, allow them to stay in that moment forever, but Hook woke with the dawn like always. It wasn’t long before she felt him stir behind her. And when he pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder and she sighed, Emma could feel the way his lips curved in a smirk against her skin.

“Since when do you wake up before me, love?”

“You must be rubbing off on me.”

“It’s a good habit to have.” The smirk widened. “Any other things you’d like me to rub off on you?”

An amused snort forced its way out automatically at his suggestion. “You wish.” Actually, she wished, but that was beside the point.

She felt more than heard him chuckle. “Perhaps…” His arm tightened around her, fingers tracing a meandering pattern up her stomach to the valley between her breasts, and when he shifted just a little closer, the proof that his nonchalant perhaps was really a blaring yes pressed firmly against her backside.

“Really, it’s that I couldn’t fall sleep.”

“Then I did a poor job of wearing you out last night.”

It was becoming ridiculously difficult to not respond to the way his mouth was now working a path from her shoulder up the side of her neck. “Mmm… you must be losing your touch.”

“That’s not what it seemed like. If I remember correctly, you responded to my touch readily enough.”

He teased a nipple before trailing a burning path down to the apex of her thighs, and when he pressed a finger against her, she could no longer fight her soft exhale or the way her back arched so she could better push against his arousal. To Hook’s credit, he continued to move with a frustrating slowness.

“But just to make sure, maybe we should recreate last night’s events and try again.”

Unable to take the pressure any longer, Emma rolled over. The sheets twisted around her legs and body and kept her from feeling some parts of his skin against hers, but being able to face him and capture his mouth in a demanding kiss was enough. Hook didn’t seem to care about the sheets either, not if the firm grasp he had on her hair, his instant groan into her mouth, or the way he bucked against her was anything to go by.

And when they broke apart, she had just enough time before he scattered her thoughts to breathlessly whisper. “If you insist.”

It ended up being a good thing that the group was planning to leave at midday. The delayed start gave Hook and Emma plenty of time to start the day by losing themselves in each other’s bodies, gradually get up to help each other get dressed, and then promptly help each other undress as they tumbled back into bed and enjoyed each other’s bodies once more.

But no matter how pleasant the first half of the day was, it was all too soon that the sun hung high in the sky and they stood in the courtyard. A whole congregation of people had gathered for the sendoff. Ruby, Graham, August, the dwarves, her parents… they all stood in a semi-circle that paralleled that of Robin Hood and his men. Her parents were saying something that sounded like ‘thank you’ and ‘come see us again’ and ‘you’re welcome anytime’ to the men that had helped liberate the kingdom who responded in kind, but everyone’s voices sounded fuzzy in her ears.

Clarity only came when the pleasantries were finished and Hook came to stand before her.

“Well, love, I guess this is farewell.” Then he gave her a slight grin. “For now.”

“And after I just got you back.” Emma sighed deeply; three days hadn’t been nearly long enough. How was it that seventy-two hours could pass so quickly?

“I think that should be the other way around.” But before she could say anything else, he snagged her hand and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Think about me, Miss Swan.” The way he smirked up at her made her heart skip a beat.

“You know, I think you said that to me once already right before you disappeared for four months.” A farewell said a long time ago across a bar in a pirate tavern. “You’re Captain Hook – you can’t reuse old lines on the same girl.”

Nonplussed, he continued to grin at her. “Did it work?”

Emma chuckled, slightly confused. “What?”

“Did you think about me?”

It was frustratingly difficult not to be distracted by the feel of his calloused fingertips against the palm of her hand or the way his thumb was tracing a line across her knuckles. “Yes…” Honestly, it had been more than she cared to admit.

“Then I think I’ll stick with what’s been proven to work on you, love. No use in messing up a good thing. I’ll have to surprise you with something new another time.” And he finished his little declaration with a wink.

A _wink_.

Emma rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the amused grin that spread across her face. But just as quickly as their conversation had slipped into flirting innuendo, it transitioned out. Smirk fading, Hook released her hand, stepped closer, and reached up to cup her neck. And it didn’t really matter that they weren’t alone or that everyone could’ve been watching them in that moment… the only thing that mattered was that it would be the last time she’d see him for who knew how long.

Closing the little distance that remained between them, Emma caught him in a firm kiss. The hand around her neck automatically tightened, and she felt his other arm snake around her back, felt the metal curve of his hook hold her close. He was leading, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting their heads so he could deepen the kiss in a way that made her mind reel, her stomach flutter, her knees weak… and then he was pulling back. The kiss turned soft and gentle, more delicate candlelight than roaring bonfire.

Their quickened breaths mingled in the small space between their mouths when he pressed his forehead to hers. The moment felt so unacceptably short and so pleasantly long at the same time, and Emma memorized the exact warmth of his body, the scent of rum and leather, and the sound of his wistful exhale in the split second before he turned away.

She felt the loss of him keenly, swaying forward into the space he’d occupied. But she didn’t step forward, just watched with a heavy heart as he mounted the horse.

“Lead the way, master tracker.”

Robin called his men to attention, thanked everyone present once more, and proceeded to lead the band past Emma towards the main gate. “Until we meet again, milady.” She issued a short nod to the thief before her eyes lowered.

Emma was still staring fixatedly at a patch of grass growing through the crack of a cobblestone when the sight was replaced by dappled black and white horsehair and Hook’s leather-clad leg and boot. The horse remained in front of her, but she couldn’t look up… not until he reached down to press his hook under her chin and lift her head.

His eyes were a maelstrom of… something. Some flurry of emotions and thoughts she couldn’t even fathom to explain that led to an expression on his face that was too consuming to be considered polite. It was so powerful that Emma wondered how anyone else could see her in that moment, what with the way Hook was swallowing her with his eyes.

“I’ll be back.” The horse shifted restlessly, but his hook refused to leave her chin. “I’ll be back for you.”

She refocused on him, drank in the details, memorized his determination. For a couple seconds, her hand was on his calf. She felt the outline of his muscle and sun-warmed leather and allowed his promise to sink into her before offering her own.

“I’ll be waiting.”

There was a brief smirk and a playful glint in Hook’s eyes… then the sharp snap of the reins, a clattering of horseshoes against the cobblestones, and Emma was left looking at the empty gateway to the palace as the group disappeared around the corner.


	23. A Playing Game and A Waiting Game

_“I am a jumble of passions, misgivings, and wants. It seems I am always in a state of wishing and rarely in a state of contentment.”_

* * *

The sun blazed down on Neverland, staining her cheeks a bright pink and turning the sand around her into blindingly white light. It was a particularly warm day, and the excessive heat coupled with the rapidly diminishing water stores aboard the Jolly Roger had sent Emma, Hook, and a handful of pirates to shore. Refilling the barrels was an all day ordeal, one that usually left the majority of the crew in varying stages of soreness the day after. At least that’s what Emma’s complaining muscles liked to insist; she didn’t want to be the only one feeling the effects of the exertions.

Still, there was something strangely rewarding about hard work.

And it was definitely classified as hard work.

There were repeated trips to the water source farther in the island, the careful trek back while carrying buckets filled with water, and then the numerous trips back and forth from the shore to the ship to deliver it. Initially, Hook had vehemently denied her helping and ordered her to stay aboard the Jolly Roger, but her stubbornness had succeeded in the end. She’d wanted to help in a more proactive way, but she’d never been much of a rower and wasn’t nearly as strong as the crewmembers, which left her at the water source filling the buckets.

“You holding up alright, lass?”

Emma dropped the ladle into the nearly full bucket and straightened. Arching her back and wincing slightly when it cracked after being stooped over for so long, she looked at Starkey. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

“You should take a break. The captain would make me walk the plank and feed me to the crocodiles if I let you collapse.”

“I’m doing fine, Starkey.” But when he followed the movement of her hand as it swiped the sweat from her forehead with a knowing grin, she gave him a stern look. “Don’t even.”

Immediately, he schooled his expression to innocently blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emma just rolled her eyes in response.

Still, it was hot… and her back hurt immensely… and she was in the process of developing a rather large blister on the palm of her hand… and she’d been ladling water for what felt like days… and it wouldn’t hurt if she just took a little break…

The sound of running water pulled her from her rationalization. Blinking, she turned to see Starkey filling the empty buckets he’d just arrived with.

“You don’t have to…”

“Go take a break, lass.” He glanced at her with a smile when she continued to stand there. “Go on.”

It was a testament to her exhaustion that her feet obeyed before her mind. They carried her to the edge of the clearing, and when she was finally in the shade, she collapsed and leaned back against a tree.

Even in the shade, it was still warm, but with the temperature cut by at least a few degrees, the relaxing sound of running water in the background, and the faint stirrings of a breeze against her sweat-slick skin, her eyelids began to droop of their own volition. It would be so easy to just take a short nap…

“Hello, Mother!”

No.

No, no, no.

Her brows pulled together in a disparaging frown at the greeting, but she kept her eyes tightly shut. It was a dream. Had to be. She was already sleeping, and it was all just a dream. Even if it wasn’t, she could ignore him. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe he’d go away.

“I know you’re awake.”

Or not.

Clearly, there would be no rest for the weary.

Emma cracked an eye and was immediately greeted with a beaming smile. Reluctantly, she shut her eye, took a deep breath, and opened both of them to see not only Pan but the entire group of Lost Boys as well. The troupe grinned down at her, not even caring – or maybe they were just clueless – that they’d interrupted the beginnings of what was to be an excellent nap. Through their legs, she was just able to catch a glimpse of Starkey chuckling from his position at the water. Go relax, her ass. With another sigh, she looked up.

“What do you want, Pan?”

Satisfied that he had her attention, he straightened and stepped back. “We’re bored.”

“Yeah!”

“There’s nothing to do!”

“We’ve run out of games!”

“And we’re bored!”

Emma’s focus settled on each of the boys as they chimed in on Pan’s initial statement. Tootles, Curly, the Twins… they all stared at her expectantly. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“You should teach us a game.”

Honestly…

“So you’re saying that a group of kids that have no adult supervision, limitless amounts of imagination, and an entire island to run around and do anything they want on need me to teach them a game?” Her blank expression was only met with enthusiastic nods; sarcasm had never been their forte. “I think you’re losing your touch, Pan.”

“Didn’t say nothing about touches – we need something to play!”

“That’s not what I… oh, never mind.”

Slowly, she stood, cringing at the tightness that had already set into her muscles. She’d be lucky if she were able to walk normally tomorrow; not that she’d ever admit that to Hook. If he knew exactly how sore she got, he’d say her days of helping fill water barrels were over right before he’d issue a innuendo about her not being able to walk. She could already hear it. Yes, that was a comment best kept to herself.

“What kind of game do you want to play?”

“The kind that’s fun, of course!”

Of course, Emma. Get with the program.

She gave Pan a withering look that, judging by his unfazed appearance, went right over his head. There was little hope of the boys leaving her alone, and she said a silent, regretful goodbye to both the nap and rest in general that were now out of reach while trying to think of something they could play.

It would have to be something interesting. She cut a sideways glance down to the group of boys – it would have to be something _very_ interesting. And it needed to be something they could play without her so them seeking her out to learn new games wouldn’t become a habit. She mentally shuffled through those that she knew – or at least remembered thanks to Neverland’s power – before deciding on one.

“Alright, listen up.” They boys stepped closer as one and stared up at her excitedly. “The game is called baseball. You start with two teams.” Emma stepped through them, and they followed her as she picked up a coconut and a tree limb and laid out four banana tree leaves. “Each team takes turns trying to hit the coconut with the stick. If you hit it, you run a circle around the leaves back to where you started, but while you’re running, the other team is trying to get the coconut. If you make it back to the starting leaf, your team gets a point; if the other team gets the coconut and touches you, they get a point. After one team gets five points, they switch so that everyone gets a chance to try hitting the coconut.”

It wasn’t the exact rules of the game she’d grown up with, but it was close enough and probably easier for the attention deficit boys to follow.

She split them into teams, broke up the ensuing argument between the boys on why Nibs’ team was getting to bat before Tootles’, and then walked them through a trial run of the game. Surprisingly enough, they took to it easily, and she was soon able to stand back and watch them play. Occasionally, she caught some of the crew watching the game as they waited for buckets to carry back, and one time Hook even walked over to keep her company for a while.

The sun was long past its peak and the clearing empty aside from Starkey, Emma, and the Lost Boys when Slightly suddenly darted away from the banana leaves to prevent being touched. Immediately, the other boys began shouting and chasing after him.

“No, you have to follow the bases!” She called out after the group, but they completely ignored her.

Not that it mattered anyway because at least they were entertained.

Slightly ran around the clearing, leading the horde of boys in a wide circle as he weaved through the trees and splashed through the water, and Emma watched with a smile as the game of baseball devolved into a glorified game of tag. They had just looped back around when a sharp crack sounded.

Her hand automatically went to the hilt of her short sword as she whirled around… only to see Pan flat on his back, rubbing his head, and laughing.

“Are you alright?” She felt an instinctive rush of concern. “What happened?”

He tried to speak, but the words came out jumbled and incomprehensible. And the fact that he couldn’t even talk had him dissolving into a new fit of laughter. Emma looked on, worry melting away when she realized he wasn’t hurt too bad, as he pointed up at a low-growing tree branch. It wasn’t difficult to surmise what had happened.

“You need to be careful.” In more ways than one, her mind added. The wild boys were notoriously foolhardy.

“You worry too much.”

She eyed the red mark on his forehead. “Yeah, well, it’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.” Gods, she sounded just like her parents.

Pan, however, just crowed a dismissive laugh and called over his shoulder as he ran to catch up to the boys still running around the clearing. “Oh, Mother, this is Neverland… it’s always fun and games!”

* * *

The edge of the sea crept up, pulled by a moon that was invisible behind the bank of clouds that hung heavy in the sky. They roiled overhead, folding in on themselves over and over as the wind pushed them ever southward. Without warning, a jagged streak of lightning illuminated the darkness, closely followed by snarling thunder that vibrated the earth, and when it disappeared, the momentary brightness of the lightning left an imprint against the black clouds.

Emma had been lying on the beach long enough to have watched the storm roll in from the ocean, the thunderheads consuming the last traces of daylight and the twinkling stars. Some would have been deterred by the darkening sky and the threat of rain, but not her.

It had been late afternoon when she’d first noticed the clouds in the distance, smelled the hint of the coming rain from her place in the gardens. Immediately, she’d relocated through the town and down to a quiet, secluded spot on the beach. There was something about it – the storm, the solitude, the sea – that called to her, pulled on her heart.

The place had become her haven, of sorts. Whenever everything got to be too much, whenever it felt overwhelming, she’d sneak away to sit and stare at the ocean for hours. She didn’t know if anyone else knew where exactly she went when she disappeared, but thankfully no one ever questioned her on it. In fact, only two people had ever found her spot, and she knew they wouldn’t be revealing its location any time soon.

_Emma stared down at the water that gently lapped at her toes. Her boots had been abandoned in favor of feeling the cool water and the sun-warmed sand, and she smiled absentmindedly at the tiny fish that swam back and forth with the ebb and flow of the waves._

_It had been so long since she’d been able to stand on a beach and just… be._

_Exist._

_Live._

_Looking out over the water, she felt peaceful. Renewed… invigorated… restored. The hustle and bustle of the town was a distant thought, swept away by the tide, and she was able to breathe deeply, fill her lungs with the briny scent of freedom and adventure._

_“Mother!”_

_Speaking of adventure._

_Emma turned to see two figures hovering nearby. “Hey Pan. Tink.” Slowly, they lowered until they stood on the previously smooth expanse of sand, Tinkerbell shifting in a glimmering light to a more normal size. “How’d you find me?”_

_“You’re not as sneaky as you think, Mother.”_

_With a smile, she nodded thoughtfully. “Good to know. I’ll have to be more careful in the future so I don’t get caught.”_

_“Exactly!” And then he was floating again, spinning in circles around the two women as he sang some ridiculous song that he and the Lost Boys had made up. Emma watched him for a moment before her sight settled on Tinkerbell._

_“Truth is, when you weren’t in the castle, I figured we’d find you down here somewhere.”_

_“What made you think that?”_

_Tinkerbell only offered a secretive grin in response to Emma’s arched eyebrow. “Just call it a hunch.” Eyebrow lowering, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the pixie even as a small grin of her own played at the corners of her mouth, but it was Pan that expounded._

_“Isn’t a hunch, it’s the look in your eyes, Mother.”_

_“I have a… look in my eyes?” Emma followed his progress, turning her head from one side to the other when he circled behind her._

_“Mmhmm. It’s that look of otherness, like you’ve seen too much.” He drifted closer until he was directly in front of her and pointed at his own eyes. “I’ve got it in mine too.” Emma studied his green eyes, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, leaned over to look past Pan to Tinkerbell with a questioning look._

_“It’s what happens to people that spend too long in Neverland. It’s hard to pick out unless you’re used to seeing it like we are.”_

_As far as explanations went, it was somewhat lacking._

_And by lacking, she meant didn’t explain anything at all._

_With a slight shake of her head, Emma looked back to Pan. She stared hard, and after a few seconds of her studying him, he widened his eyes comically as if that would help her to see the otherness he spoke of. His funny expression made her chuckle, which in turn set him laughing. But then she was doing a double take._

_Because there was something._

_In that split second before he blinked and spun away from her again, there had been something in the depths of the green._

_A glittering gold…_

_A shimmering dust…_

_But then he was gone and Emma was left wondering what she’d seen or if she’d even seen anything at all. She stared at the blank sand and pondered for a moment before mentally shaking herself. “Even if there was something in my eyes, that still doesn’t explain how you knew I’d be here.” She opened her hands wide, gesturing to their surroundings._

_“Oh, Emma.” The way the pixie said it made her sound so old, so… wise. “You’ve spent the majority of your life either at the water’s edge in Tortuga or on it aboard the Jolly Roger. And the few years that you weren’t at either of those places, you wished for the waves.” She offered a winsome grin. “You may not have known what exactly it was you were searching for at the time, but it was the ocean.”_

_Emma thought of how she’d been wandering through the village in a stupor, of the instantaneous vivacity that had flooded her when she’d stepped off the wooden planks of the dock into familiar sand, of the overwhelming feeling of right._

_“You two are so very much alike.” Their eyes met across the distance, soft hazel and sharp green. “The sea sings to you both.”_

_It was clear who she meant._

_Eyes lowered, Emma sighed deeply and turned to stare out over the water. Perhaps there was some truth to Tinkerbell’s words. When she was young, she wanted to be free… and with its timeless existence and continuous flow, what greater freedom was there than the sea? Mysterious, unfathomable, refusing to be restrained. The sea was indefinitely wild. And maybe that’s what she’d always needed to be at peace – the tonic of wildness._

_“Are you ready yet, Tinkerbell?”_

_Pan’s imploring question was that of children that had long grown tired of adult conversations and successfully drew her attention back to the current situation. “Ready for what?”_

_“That’s what we came here for, Mother – to tell you goodbye.”_

_“Goodbye?” Emma looked from one set of green eyes to the other. “But you can’t be leaving already.” It had only been a week since the showdown on her birthday, and one week wasn’t nearly long enough after all the time they’d spent together in Neverland._

_But Tinkerbell’s expression remained steadfast. “We don’t belong here, Emma.”_

_“You could.” Pan moved towards her, and when he grew close, Emma knelt to look him in the eye. “You could stay with us, Pan.” Her hands settled on his shoulders as she asked. “Stay with me?”_

_And in that moment, as crazy as it may have sounded, she wanted him to. Somewhere between being kidnapped by him, taking care of him and the other Lost Boys, and him showing up to help save her from Regina, she’d come to care deeply for the wild child of Neverland. He’d grown on her over the years in a way that she never could’ve expected._

_He stared at her, unusually pensive and despondent. “I can’t stay here, Mother.” It was strange the way his words were that of the child she knew even as his tone bordered on something more like maturity. “Growing up is no fun.”_

_That was the crux of Peter Pan._

_And even though it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, Emma could accept that because, in the end, all good things were wild and free._

_So it was with a crooked smile that she hugged Pan tightly – there might have been a slight sniffle too when she felt his arms squeeze her just as firmly – before standing and giving Tinkerbell the same farewell._

_“Come visit, if you can. I know it’s not easy, but… you know.”_

_It sounded lame, but the pixie nodded, understanding the sentiment behind her broken statement. “We’ll see each other again.”_

_Stepping back, Emma watched as Tinkerbell began to glow. It grew brighter and brighter, to the point where she was forced to close her eyes, and when the light receded, Tinkerbell’s form did as well, shrinking into a miniature version of herself. Gradually, Pan’s feet left the ground, and the two of them hovered there much like they had when they’d appeared earlier before they began to rise into the sky._

_They were almost thirty feet above Emma, when she remembered._

_“Pan, wait!” They stopped in mid-flight, Pan somersaulting around to face her with a playful grin. “Do you remember anything? From before Neverland?”_

_It was something she’d always been curious about. He’d been there for so long… Hook had once said that he thought Pan was Neverland incarnate. But there had to be more than that; he must have come from somewhere. The question was – where._

_She watched as the grin fell just a bit, as did his altitude._

_“There was a… before Neverland?” He stared at her, genuinely perplexed while Emma nodded in encouragement. Consumed in his thoughts, he drifted lower to the point she could clearly make out the way his brow was furrowed in intense concentration. “I remember…” Waiting on bated breath, she willed Pan to remember at least some part of his past. “There was a light, a bright light… it wasn’t Tink, but it was just as bright… and something smelled funny, tingly… like it tickled my nose. There was something soft, too.”_

_“A blanket?”_

_“Yeah… a blanket.” Blinking, he refocused on her, his slow descent coming to a halt. “Did you…” He paused, hesitating before continuing. “Did you have a blanket, Mother?”_

_“Yes, my mother gave one to me.”_

_Staring at the ground, he seemed to consider the words before meeting her eyes again. “Since you’re Mother, did you give me my blanket?” But Emma shook her head._

_“No, but someone like me probably did. Your real mother.”_

_“I… I think I remember sometimes…” He trailed off into silence again, pensive expression back on his face._

_When his silence persisted, she prompted. “What do you remember, Pan?”_

_Emma thought of her own mother and how she would tuck her into bed at night or comb her hair until it gleamed or point out the constellations weaved through the heavens. She could remember the time her mother had bandaged her knee when she’d fallen and scraped it, and the time she’d been so sick she could barely walk and her mother had slept in a chair at her bedside for days. Emma could smell the faint rose scent of her perfume, could feel the warm embrace of her hug._

_She wanted that for Pan. She wanted him to know a mother’s love._

_“Sometimes when I wake up, I can hear a voice. It’s a good voice, a nice voice. It’s a girl’s voice. She calls me…” He swallowed hard, and Emma thought that maybe, for once, he was trying to fight to bring back the memory instead of allowing the power of Neverland to take it. “She calls me Henry.”_

_“Henry.” Emma smiled. “That’s a nice name.”_

_“Yeah…” Then his attentiveness disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the typical carefree grin. “But I still like Pan better!” With the moment gone, he rose once more, catching up to Tinkerbell in the blink of an eye. “I’ll check on you sometimes, Mother, from the top of Neverpeak Mountain. When I’m at the top, I can see over anyone and anything, all the way to beyond belief. That’s where I’ll see you.” Shielding her eyes, she kept him in sight as he called over his shoulder. “But if you ever do decide to come back to Neverland, you know where to find us – second star to the right…”_

_Emma whispered the last words with him as he disappeared into the firmament._

_“And straight on ‘til morning.”_

A drop of rain fell from the dark clouds to land on her cheek. It clung there for a moment before slowly rolling down the side of her face, but she didn’t reach up to brush away the moisture.

It had been almost six months since the showdown with Regina.

It had been almost six months since Pan and Tinkerbell had left.

At first, she’d rationalized that her spending more and more time on the beach was because it was easier to see the stars. She could stare up at the skies in silence and watch the slow, infinite dance of the heavens with only the sound of the waves in the background. Then, she’d decided that she spent so much time there because she missed being on the open water. But while those were both true statements, if she really thought about it – and she did, more than she cared to admit – it was because the dark skies and the soothing tides reminded her of him.

Because it had also been almost six months since she’d last seen Hook.

He’d come into her life with a bang and been an integral part of her life for all those years in Tortuga and Neverland… but then he was gone in the wake of a stinging betrayal… only to come back to rescue her and cast aside the hurtful past… before he was gone again on the trail of the Evil Queen.

And now she was left waiting.

The whirlwind that was their time together, all ups and downs and constant motion, often made her reel. Sometimes, she thought how it might be nice to settle down and live a normal, quiet life after everything they’d gone through… but then she’d picture Hook standing at the helm of the Jolly Roger with nothing but the open sea in every direction, the wind ruffling his hair, and that spark of pure, unadulterated joy in his eyes and think that a normal, quiet life was incredibly overrated.

“Hey there.”

Emma tipped her head back to see her father standing a few feet away. He’d managed to sneak up on her; although whether it was due to his skillfully silent approach or her being caught up in distracting thoughts, she couldn’t say.

“Hey.” The sand pulled at her hair as she turned to focus on the sky again. “Mom’s probably looking for you.”

“I don’t think I’m the only one she’s trying to find.” She felt more than heard him approach and lower himself beside her. “I say let her worry for a bit, though. It’ll be good for her. Everything’s been more or less calm for the past few months, and after thirty years of nothing but worrying, I don’t think she knows how to handle living without stress anymore.”

She glanced over, arching an eyebrow for good measure. “So you’re making her worry about her husband and daughter disappearing because you love her?”

“Exactly.” When he offered an impish grin, she chuckled softly.

“Well, that makes me feel better about running away. At least I know where I got it.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, him watching the incoming tide and her watching the swirling clouds. It was a comfortable silence. But then, she’d always felt so at ease around her father. Even the times that he’d been angry with her, when they’d disagreed or argued, there was always their uncomplicated relationship to fall back on.

“Can I ask what you’re doing out here by yourself in the middle of a soon-to-be storm?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Thinking.”

“About?” It had been a vague response; she should have known it wouldn’t satisfy her father.

“Things I probably shouldn’t.”

“Like a certain pirate.”

He said it in such a casually observant way, not even looking away from the sea to meet her eyes when she turned to him sharply. There were plenty of things she could have been thinking about – her less than graceful integration back into the royal lifestyle, the fact that Regina was still alive somewhere and probably plotting against them, how much she sometimes missed her uncomplicated life in a distant port town – and yet her father pinpointed the one she was most reluctant to talk about right away.

“Is it that obvious?”

“No…” The slight quirk at the corner of his mouth caught her eye. “Not to everyone, at least. I used to think you were easy to read because you were still a child, but now I’ve realized that’s just the way you are. To those that really know you, it’s quite simple to know what you’re thinking.”

Ever the open book. It could be the motto of her life.

When she issued a frustrated sigh, he finally turned to her. “That’s not a bad thing, Emma.”

“I know.” And she did, even if it was still an inconvenient trait to have at times.

But then, if she wasn’t so easy to read, how different would her life have turned out? Without the occasional glimpse of her internal struggle on giving into him during those first few years, would Hook have abandoned his pursuits early on? Would he have been more willing to offer her up to Regina? Caught up in her thoughts, it took a while for her to realize her father was grinning down at her.

“It wouldn’t hurt to give your mind a break. Stop thinking about Hook for a while and, instead, think about how beautiful you’re going to look tonight.”

Gods, the ball…

Her mother had planned it as a celebration of the peace that had settled over the land. The announcement hadn’t been unexpected, but that didn’t make the preparations around the palace or the questions on what she was planning to wear – it was a masquerade ball, of all things – any more welcome. Still, her mother was beyond excited, and seeing her smile was enough to make Emma hold her tongue and, for once, just go with it.

“I’ve never been one for balls, Dad. You know that.”

“Your mother would say I raised you to be too much like me.”

“Mmhmm…” Emma could remember the shocked looks she’d receive when she’d get back to the castle as a child, clothes filthy and covered in grass stains, face smudged with dirt. “She would’ve loved nothing more than to have a girly-girl princess.”

“I think a small part of her wanted that, but life has a funny way of not working out like we expect it to.” His head lowered and turned towards her, but his gaze was fixed on the stretch of sand near her waist instead of her eyes. “No matter what you may think, Emma, your mother and I love you very much, and we’re both proud of the woman you’ve grown up to be.”

Forgiveness wasn’t something people were entitled to, it was a gift. And even though Emma knew her parents had already forgiven her, hearing her father say they were proud of her made her heart hurt in a good way.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Lightning crashed magnificently, and her father inclined his head to watch it streak through the sky. Then he leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, and spoke in a nonchalant tone. “Did I ever tell you about the time I ran away from home?”

“What?” She couldn’t feign her interest if she tried and looked to him disbelievingly. “You didn’t.”

He nodded, smile playing at his mouth again. “I was young… fifteen, maybe sixteen, at the time. Your grandfather had recently died so it was just your grandmother and me. It wasn’t easy; we struggled every day just to make ends meet. There were many times we both went to bed hungry, and I couldn’t help but feel bitter, especially when lords would pass by with their processions of horses and carriages while I was stuck tilling the ground.”

It was so very unlike the abundant splendor she’d grown up in.

“So one night, I gathered the few belongings I had and left. I made it as far as the trading post a few towns over before I turned back. There was no way I could leave her alone like that. Before I went back, though, I sat on the beach. Just like we are now, I sat there and stared at the water and wished for another way out that wouldn’t be at the expense of your grandmother.”

Emma gazed up at her father, watched the flickering lightning chase the shadows from his face, the movement of his throat as he swallowed thickly, and was struck by how similar they were despite their dissimilar upbringings. How uncanny for two people of such drastically different backgrounds to experience the same trapped feeling.

“I hadn’t been back more than a few months when Rumplestiltskin showed up and recruited me to slay the dragon in exchange for saving the farm. The rest, as they say, is history. It’s funny…” He paused, took a deep breath. “I wanted a… not so much better, just… different life so badly. But when I finally had it, it wasn’t at all what I expected. I missed your grandmother so much. Still, even though I missed her and wasn’t happy at the prospect of marrying Abigail, I was still secretly glad to not be farming.”

“Not everyone was made to be a farmer, I guess.”

“Just like not everyone was made for a life as a princess.” Emma froze at the implication, mouth hanging slightly open. “A castle can be a mansion or a prison, depending on the size of your dreams.” He turned to look at her with a wistful smile. “And I think your dreams cast such a large shadow that they dwarf the entire palace.”

“Dad…”

Raising one knee up and tucking her opposite foot under it, Emma pulled herself up. “Your mother and I made the mistake once of holding on too tightly.” He reached out to brush away the pieces of sand that clung to her hair and back. “We won’t do that again.”

“I wouldn’t leave you two…” She swallowed thickly, throat tight. “I _couldn’t_ leave, not after all the time we’ve lost.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t live your life for us; that’s not the way it works. If you don’t do what makes you happy, you’ll only live to regret it.” Finished brushing away the sand, he cupped her chin for a moment. “Just some food for thought.” Then his hand fell away as he unfurled and stood up. “But no matter what you decide, you’re required to attend your mother’s ball tonight. If you don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. Let’s go before we get soaked.” And when he extended a hand down to her, she placed her hand in his.

Back in the palace, Emma was swept into a flurry of activity.

She was unceremoniously ushered into a warm bath that cleaned away the sand and salt that still clung to her body before being placed in front of a fire. Then, there were hands. Everywhere. One pair of them rubbed at her hair with a towel, encouraging the warmth of the fire to dry the strands, before scooping the locks up into an elegant twist. Another pair poked at her arms, waist, and hips as they took measurements for last minute alterations to her gown. Yet another painted her eyes dark with kohl and stained her lips a soft red.

It felt strange to have so much attention being lavished on her after so long without it – she didn’t count the single-minded attention of the pirates in Tortuga – and made her stomach clench with nostalgic thoughts of _what if_ and _might have been_. But there wasn’t too much time to dwell on the past, not with the way time flew. One minute she was staring at the elegant creature that was her reflection in the floor-length mirror in stunned silence; the next, she was receiving both her mother’s beaming smile and a crushing hug in the middle of the ballroom.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Emma shifted self-consciously when her mother glanced down at the strapless number she was wearing. It really was a beautiful dress – a fitted bodice, creamy white and complete with tasteful pleating, led to a glittering belt that adorned the drop waist at her hips before flowing out in soft layers of organza. But while the dress was beautiful, it was the mask that was her favorite, and not just because she could hide behind it.

Nothing but shimmering, silver glitter covered the lowest part of the mask near her nose but was progressively decorated with more and more beading the higher it went. At a point above her left eye, the beading converged to form a delicate swan. And to top it off, the upper edge of the mask transitioned from the sparkling beads to soft feathers that extended upwards over her head.

“A swan.” Her mother touched a finger to the beaded animal and feathers. “How perfect.” Then, with another smile and a swirl of fabric, she was gone.

The rest of the evening passed in a kaleidoscope of flickering lights and colorful gowns and decorative masks. There was food and drink, music and dancing, and Emma quickly lost track of all the ‘congratulations’ and ‘welcome homes’ that she received.

Thankfully, her mother hadn’t gone over the top with the ball. It was a relatively small ordeal, or as small as her mother was capable of organizing. Even still, as the night progressed, Emma’s stomach felt heavier and heavier.

Some of the details regarding her absence over the years, along with the man that had ended up saving her, had leaked to the general populace, which ended up creating a buzz of gossip and speculation as the villagers took to the idea of piracy in an ironically wholehearted way. It was a nice gesture, but was also the source of the leaden weight in her belly. Because, in the end, their acceptance had led to several attendees of the masquerade ball being dressed as pirates.

The first glimpse of a long, leather coat had made her heart stutter in an embarrassingly acute way. Her breath had hitched, and she’d reached out automatically only to pull back when the man turned to her with dull, brown eyes instead of dazzling blue.

It was almost painful the way her heart fell. However, it was an apparently resilient organ as it later rebounded hopefully at the sight of a cutlass only to plummet once more when the crowd parted to reveal a paunchy lord.

It was after she spotted the fifth leather-clad person – by that point she was feeling more irritated than anything at the overabundance of pirates – over the armored shoulder of the dragon slayer that had requested a dance, that she excused herself and sought refuge in a secluded corner.

Emma clung to the shadows in the alcove. Away from the overwhelming crowd of masks and the cloying scent of perfume, she could relax. She could breathe. Her back connected with the wall, and leaning heavily against it, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. The smooth stone was refreshingly cool beneath her palms. It worked to calm her heart even as the lyrical rise and fall of the violins enveloped her in a far less grating melody in her isolation than they had in the middle of the ballroom.

The song ended.

Polite clapping filled the silence.

Another song began.

And Emma was still contemplating whether or not to rejoin the festivities or sneak off to her room when she heard it.

“Hello, beautiful.”


	24. A Day and A Dance

_“You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it.”_

* * *

The lush, green Neverland grass stretched out until it abruptly met with clear, blue Neverland sky. The day was still, no wind whatsoever, and completely silent aside from the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Emma walked towards the horizon created between land and air, only stopping when there was no room left to advance. The grass dropped off, curling over the side of the cliff before trailing into brown earth that descended for hundreds of feet to the boulder-peppered ocean below.

Peering over the precipice, her breath quickened in exhilaration.

There was something undeniably thrilling about standing so close to the edge.

“I’d appreciate it if you stepped back, love. As much as I enjoy swimming, I don’t fancy the idea of jumping in to save you if you fell.” Hook came up to stand beside her and, like she had just done, leaned over the edge. “This long of a drop combined with those rocks wouldn’t exactly be a compatible mixture.”

“What makes you think I need saving?”

“Maybe not saving, so much; more like getting out of sticky situations.” A sort of anxious tension rolled off Hook’s body when he glanced down again. He wasn’t afraid of heights, per se, but it had still never been his favorite thing. “Assuming we would survive the fall, that is.”

Not feeling nearly as nervous as the pirate next to her, Emma toed the drop off and ignored the disgruntled look he shot her at the action. “I’m beginning to think sticky situations naturally gravitate to me.” She waited for him to stop staring at her, but it was in vain. With a sigh, she turned to face him. “You make it sound like it happens all the time. It’s not like I’m constantly getting myself into trouble.”

“Emma Swan, you are _always_ in some sort of trouble.”

“That’s not true.” Although that wasn’t exactly true either. One of his brows arched as a teasing smirk chased away at least part of his worry. “Well, half the time it’s because of something you’ve done.”

“Oh, really?”

She gave a sharp nod. “Yes.” Holding out a hand, she ticked the points off finger by finger. “The time I was thrown off the ship – all your fault…”

“That skirmish was supposed to be between the seadog and me. If you wouldn’t have antagonized him, he wouldn’t have tossed you overboard.”

“Being captured by the natives – all your fault…”

“In my defense, that was because of another woman’s grudge. You know the saying; hell hath no fury and all that.”

“Getting attacked by mermaids – all your fault…”

“I couldn’t just stand aside and let them get away with stealing what was rightfully mine. Any person with the remotest sense of honor would’ve done the same.”

“Coming to Neverland in the first place – all your fault…”

“We had to do that to save your life, which just proves my point that you’re always getting into trouble.”

Emma let what he said fade away into silence while she narrowed her eyes at his smug expression. He was always so cocky, so self-assured. One day, she’d find a more effective way to counter that smugness because her glares just weren’t cutting it anymore. Then again, that unwavering confidence was what made him so attractive… among other things, of course.

A few members of the crew stomped through the jungle behind them, breaking the silence. Hook had declared it a good day for exploring the jungle – as if he hadn’t scoured every inch of Neverland in the three hundred years he’d been there before – and since it gave Emma the chance for some much-needed time to herself, she’d instantly agreed. The solitude had been nice while it lasted, but she should’ve known that Hook and his crew would’ve caught up to her eventually.

The swath of red that was Smee’s cap bobbed through the undergrowth, followed by what looked like Jukes. Emma shifted slightly to follow their progress, but when she twisted, the ground suddenly gave way beneath her left foot.

She yelped and automatically clasped Hook’s arms in a death grip to maintain some balance while her right leg struggled to pull the rest of her away from the open air. It was inane of her to look down. But even though she knew that, in the split second before Hook dragged her back, she couldn’t help but watch the clumps of earth that had seemed so firm beneath her feet plunge to the white-capped waves below.

Then they were collapsing onto the ground, Emma landing heavily across Hook’s chest.

If it weren’t for the adrenaline still racing through both of them, the situation might have been suggestive; however, there was adrenaline distracting her with its energy. Also, the crew continued to move closer, and knowing the hassle they’d receive for being caught in the compromising position they were in, Emma rolled off Hook’s body and sat next to him.

It was a testament to his surprise that he allowed her to get away without a struggle.

“Bloody hell.” And as if once wasn’t enough. “Bloody hell.” Finally, he recovered enough to sit up. Elbows resting on his bent knees, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before looking to her. “I told you… didn’t I tell you?” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Stubborn lass, standing on the edge like a…”

“If you even think of calling me an idiot, I’ll smack you.”

“I was going to say maniac, but if the shoe fits…”

“Shut up.”

Hook only chuckled. He’d always been quick to bounce back and smooth over a potentially serious situation. Not that it bothered Emma; seriousness never looked right on him anyway. “In any case, let’s just stay right here. I don’t know about you, but I can still see perfectly fine sitting ten feet away from the edge of the bloody cliff.”

“Fine.” At the last second, she decided not to add ‘chicken’ after it and just let him win.

Stretching her legs out, she leaned back onto her hands. Not long after, he copied her movement.

They sat there in comfortable silence; Emma didn’t keep track of how long. It could’ve been as short as a few minutes or as long as a thousand centuries, for all she knew. They sat there long enough for the sound of Hook’s crew to fade away as they moved back through the jungle to the ship, long enough for the sun to turn the sea to fire as it dipped beneath the horizon, long enough for the air to cool and cause goosebumps to break out on the backs of her arms, long enough for the sky to be filled with stars that flickered like diamonds.

It was nice, just the two of them… but then, it was always that way with them.

She was lying on her back, trying to remember the name of the constellation – it swooped in a large u-shape before fall back down into a loop at the end; it looked almost like a snake, but she knew that wasn’t it – when he finally broke the silence.

“Neverland is perfect.” Emma blinked. Then she slowly turned her head. He continued to stare up, so she studied the strong line of his jaw and the stubble that outlined it until he turned to look at her as well. “In its own, strange way.”

Emma blinked again.

“It has everything a person needs. Food, drink, an unending ocean, plenty of adventure…” He paused and lifted his hook, held it above his head. They both watched the moon’s reflection contort around the curves of it as it rotated. “Endless amounts of time to get things right.”

Time. That was something Neverland had plenty of. And Hook was right – without the eventual end that other realms promised, there was plenty of time to right all the wrongs in life. But human nature was a funny thing, so while the time could be used to make things right…

“Endless amounts of time can also mess things up beyond repair.”

“Given enough time, you don’t think that someone could eventually achieve something close to perfection?”

They switched positions, Hook turning to look at her and Emma turning to stare up at the sky. “You tell me. You’re the one that spent three centuries here.”

It hadn’t been enough time for Hook to let go of the shadows of his past. Instead, all it had done was allow more time for the ugly resentment he’d carried within him to fester and grow. So if three hundred years wasn’t enough time to get things right, how much would it take?

“I… I’m not… I don’t…” She knew he was thinking the same thing she was, but she didn’t rush him. He fell silent, pondering his answer, but eventually answered, even if it was in a roundabout way. “Maybe it takes some people longer than others to work their way out of the bad things of the past.”

“Maybe…”

But again, how long would it take? Three hundred years? Three hundred more? Three hundred thousand? A person could spend an eternity trying to sort everything out, and in the end, they would just be doing the same thing everyone else did – chase perfection, only with the luxury of infinite time.

“But would you even want to? If you were finally able to right all the wrongs and become the best you that you could be, there’d be nothing else to work towards. Life would be so dull, so… pointless; just a bunch of people basking in their flawlessness.” Emma quietly sighed. “Do you really think you’d be content?”

“No, I suppose not.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn back to the sky before saying somewhat despondently. “I guess contentment’s not in my nature.”

“I don’t think it’s in anyone’s nature, really.”

“Neither is perfection.”

On impulse, her fingers snaked out. They ghosted over the soft grass and a small patch of dirt until she finally contacted his wrist. Leisurely, she traced the tendons on the back of his hand. She moved up one and down the other, gradually moving to follow the wave of his knuckles, and further still to outline his fingers. When he suddenly caught her hand in his and tugged, she rolled onto her side, bracing herself on her elbow, and let her gaze roam across his face.

“What would you do with perfection, love?”

“I have no idea because there’s nothing to compare it to.” Brows pulled together in thought, she stared unseeingly at the grass. “I don’t know a perfect person; I only know imperfect people who are still worth loving.”

“Ah, then are you saying you love me?”

Emma appreciated it at certain times, but she would never understand Hook’s ability to transition from seriousness to playfulness in the blink of an eye. At his words, her mind came to a screeching halt. “What?” Then, she was insistently trying to correct herself. “No. No, no, no. I didn’t say that at all.” Warily, she met his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, like that.”

But Hook had never been good at taking orders, just giving them. So when he only winked at her, she groaned in defeat and rolled away. “Don’t worry; it can be our little secret.”

“It’s not a _secret_ , it’s a _lie_.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Even though it was dark, Emma covered her face in an attempt to hide the spreading heat she felt in her cheeks. “I do not _love_ you. I _tolerate_ you.” A peek between her fingers revealed his smirking expression as he lay with his arms crossed beneath his head, eyes trained on the stars above them.

“Whatever you say, love.”

And from some place deep within her, she felt something twist her lips into the barest of smiles.

* * *

The voice was unmistakable. The black attire was unmistakable. The wind-swept hair was unmistakable. The curved hook was unmistakable. The stupid, crooked, heart-wrenchingly familiar, annoyingly playful, ever-present smirk was unmistakable.

“You…”

Emma pushed off from the wall and turned to him. He looked good. Frustratingly good. And to keep herself from immediately rushing to him – because now that he was here, she could be mad that he’d taken so damn long to come back – she pointed sternly at him, instead.

“You…”

“I’m glad to see I can still leave you speechless, love.”

His grin only made her scowl. “You _pirate_.” She’d meant to say something along the lines of jerk or ass, but in her mind, pirate was synonymous with those often enough that she didn’t bother changing it.

“You haven’t changed a bit since I’ve been gone.”

Both of her hands lowered into clenched fists at her side as she glared at Hook through the mask. “What do you expect? Six months without so much as word from you, and then you just show up spouting off one of your snarky comments like it’s no big deal.”

“I was told I couldn't reuse old lines on you anymore.” He shrugged with a deceptively innocent expression on his face. “I was just doing what you asked.”

“Of course you were… if that’s the case, you’re saying it took you half a year to come up with that?”

“You can’t put a limit on creating the ideal moment.”

Emma threw her hands up in frustration and issued an equally frustrated groan. A small part of her insisted that it was ridiculous for her to be upset when he was finally back and standing right in front of her, but the larger – and much more willful – part of her ignored common sense and held on to her ire.

She had a right to be upset… didn’t she?

Yes. Yes, she did. Because, damn it, she’d been worried about him while he was away. Without receiving any letters or messages or anything, she had no way of knowing if he was alright. There was no way of knowing if he was even still _alive_.

As always, Hook was unperturbed by her mood. “You know very well what I’ve been doing for the past six months. And it was far more than just concocting new lines I could use to further woo you.”

“Ha! As if I’d let you…” She paused, processed the first thing he said, and felt like an idiot when she remembered the more important issue associated with his return. “Did you find her? Did you bring Regina back?”

Hook had already been partially blocking the only escape from the alcove she’d sought refuge in; now, he stepped even further into the space and leaned against the wall. His fluid ease was a stark contrast to the tension that had suddenly taken control of her muscles. So was his smirk.

“You really do look beautiful, love.”

“Don’t even try to change the subject.” She would remain firm; she refused to give in to his diversions.

He glanced over his shoulder to the guests that still danced, oblivious to the reunion happening in the corner of the room, and the decorations that adorned the space. “Nice ball, too.” When he faced her once again, he pointedly eyed the feathered mask she wore. “Did you plan it?”

“Absolutely not.”

At her vehement denial, he chuckled. “I figured as much.”

“So, about Regina…”

“Your mother must have a knack for these sorts of things.” He smoothly ignored her, and Emma felt a muscle above her right eye twitch in response. “Either that, or she just went all out to make up for lost time.”

With a long-suffering sigh, she decided to relent for the moment. “It’s a bit of both. She can’t help herself when it comes to planning balls.”

Hook nodded thoughtfully. “A true talent.” Then, his smirk widened as his attention dipped down to scan her from head to toe. Rolling her eyes helped prevent a blush, but when he pushed off the wall and began to stalk towards her, she was under the distinct impression he was undressing her with his eyes. “It’s easy to appreciate the results of such hard work.”

“You are such a pirate.”

For some reason – she preferred not to think on it too much – she wasn’t associating the term with jerk or ass as much as she had been earlier.

Still, Emma fought the urge to fidget as he continued to slowly approach her. She would _not_ reach over and touch the dress he was so obviously appreciating. She would _not_ step back and prove that he was affecting her. She would _not_ be the first one to break eye contact. She would _not_ let him win this game he had started.

But to win meant to play, so…

“You know, this ball was by invitation only.” It really wasn’t, but he didn’t necessarily have to know that. “Gate crashing isn’t considered very good manners.”

“Like you said – pirate.” Only a few feet separated them when he finally came to a stop. “It would be a shame if you forced me to leave, love. I came dressed and everything.” He gestured to his standard pirate attire.

Emma crossed her arms and arched a single brow. “It’s not a costume when that’s how you look all the time.”

“Too right.”

After giving her a look that made her instantly apprehensive, he reached into one of his jacket pockets. She caught the briefest look of something black – of course it would be black; it was his signature color – as he pulled an item out before he discreetly hid it from her view. It wasn’t until he slipped whatever it was over his head and held his arms out with a flourish that she was able to see what he’d produced.

An eye patch.

“Is this better?”

He’d put on a bloody eye patch.

“Incredible…” Hook deftly stepped around her, and she rotated to keep him in view, watching as he studied his reflection in the nearby windowpane. “I can hardly recognize myself anymore.”

Emma snorted. “You could have showed up dressed as a troll and I’d still know it was you. It’s pretty much impossible to disguise an ego as large as yours.” The truthfulness of the quip made her smile involuntarily, but her amusement faded somewhat when he didn’t acknowledge what she’d said.

“Really, though… how do I look?” She was beginning to wonder if he was purposefully ignoring her or if he was just genuinely unable to listen when other people spoke. Turning away from the window, he stepped towards her. “The intent was extraordinarily dashing, but I’ll settle for roguishly charming.” Then, he winked for good measure.

“You look like every other person here that decided to come as a pirate.”

“I think what you meant to say was that they look like me. After all, I’ve been a pirate since before any of these people were even born.”

Or their parents.

Or their grandparents.

Possibly some of their grandparents’ parents.

For what was possibly the thousandth time, she thought about how truly old he was. It was strange to think how people had been born and then died, how empires had formed and fallen, how the world had continued obliviously on, all while he’d bid his time in Neverland. It was even stranger to think how the two of them never would’ve met had it not been for Neverland.

Emma blinked, and it took a moment to register the hook extended in front of her. She followed it from the point, around the curve, up his arm, over his shoulder, and up to his playful expression; only then did she realize he’d asked her something.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d share a dance with me.” At her dumbfounded silence, his smirk widened. “I believe you owe me one; a waltz, if I remember correctly.”

Frowning, she opened her mouth, breathed in, paused… “What?” She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“I really must be losing my touch.” With a highly exaggerated sigh, he lowered his hook in mock dejection. “See, this is what happens when you devote yourself to one woman… everything is fun and new in the beginning, but once you’ve broken all the curses and left to find her evil nemesis, she starts forgetting everything you’ve ever done or discussed…”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Hook, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Neverland. Dancing around a fire. Promising to judge my own dancing abilities.” He looked at her expectantly. “Ring any bells?”

Emma blinked.

Oh.

“So you do remember.” He must have been able to see the comprehension dawn on her face. “Good, let’s go.”

The first time had been a request; the second time wasn’t. He reached forward to smoothly grab her hand before she could do or say anything against it and began to lead her away from the alcove and onto the dance floor. She struggled at first, tugging against him, but when her persistent motions started to catch several of the guests’ attention, she pasted on a smile and resigned herself to just go with it. It was unlikely he’d give up, anyway; he was too stubborn.

Once they’d reached the center, he stopped and pulled her around, swinging her in a wide circle before twirling her back to him. Instinct and years of dancing etiquette had her following his lead without question, but when he’d stopped the initial display, she gave him a stern look.

“Please…” He drawled, sarcastic. “Like you’re not impressed.”

Then they waltzed.

And just like Hook said, it would be a lie if Emma claimed she wasn’t impressed.

He moved gracefully, gliding across the ballroom in the distinct one-two-three pattern. With each second and third beat, he turned, spinning her around before stepping out again, and Emma desperately tried not to focus too hard on the curious looks they were receiving. Instead, she stared out blankly, letting her gaze pass over the outfits, the faces, the masks.

But she couldn’t _not_ notice Ruby.

Dressed in a brilliant, red dress and a fur-lined mask, she stood at the far end of the ballroom with someone that could only have been Graham. She was waving unabashedly, large and obvious, and when she realized she’d caught Emma’s attention, she mouthed something that looked suspiciously like ‘oh my gosh’ and ‘I know what you’re doing later.’

“For someone that was so intent on escaping this scene as a child, you fit into it awfully well. You look like you belong.”

Hook spoke directly into her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver up her spine that she did her best to ignore. “Just because I look the part of a princess, doesn’t mean I feel the part.”

“I take it princess-ship hasn’t grown on you.”

“No… not really.” Although, that wasn’t to say she hadn’t been trying. “But this is where I belong.”

She attended the royal council meetings, she politely bowed to the dignitaries of other kingdoms, she listened to the townsfolk when they came forward with requests… but it never came as naturally for her as it seemed to for her parents. Still, even though the duties and responsibilities that came with royalty wasn’t necessarily what she wanted, they didn’t weigh her down now as they had in her childhood.

“You sure about that, love?”

Emma pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. The playfulness was still there, but alongside it was a hardened edge that spoke to just how serious he was.

 _Did_ she belong here?

 _Truly_ belong here?

She’d been born in a shining castle, but she’d been raised in Tortuga. She’d been taught how to be a lady, but she’d perfected the art of dealing with drunken men in a rough, sailor-filled bar. She’d seen all manner of wonderful places in the Enchanted Forest, but she’d gone on an adventure to Neverland.

She was a princess, but she’d fallen in love with the sea and a pirate.

Hook, however, seemed content to let the matter drop, the hand at her lower back pulling her closer as they continued to waltz around the ballroom. They had just passed her parents – like Ruby, they made an embarrassingly big deal of seeing the two of them together – when Hook finally spoke again.

“So how do I compare to your lessons from the… how did you put it? The best instructors in seven kingdoms?”

A small smile played at her lips. “I suppose you’ll pass.” She paused when he spun her unnecessarily in an attempt to show off; then, arched an eyebrow at his smug expression when she returned to him. “Where did you learn to waltz?”

“Back when I was part of the Royal Navy, it was standard for everyone to learn the basics of dance.” Another spin; another blatant display. “I used to consider it a waste, but now I think I’m a little more inclined to appreciate it. If nothing else, it’s a good excuse to get you in my arms.”

When the elderly couple dancing nearby overheard his comment and looked to them in shock, Emma slapped Hook’s arm more for show than anything else; his innuendos didn’t have nearly the same effect on her that they used to. Although that wasn’t quite right… it was more that they didn’t shock her as much as they used to. Some of the more suggestive ones had a decidedly more intimate effect on her. However, the couple wasn’t satisfied because, while Emma’s slap might have appeased them, Hook’s devilish smirk countered all of her efforts. She watched them move quickly away.

“They’re just envious.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re jealous or not. If you don’t behave, you’re going to make me the subject of every piece of gossip in the whole kingdom.” Which was the last thing she wanted.

“As beautiful as you look tonight, you should be the talk of the town either way.”

Once again, she pulled back to catch his eye. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the past six months or are you just going to try and flatter me all evening?”

To his credit, he at least pretended to consider her words, even if she already knew the answer. “I would prefer to have a relaxing evening and just be able to take in your beauty after traipsing across the realm.” The only defense she could muster was an ever-faithful eye roll. “What do you say, love? Would you allow me to lavish you with all manner of attention tonight – some of it possibly inappropriate – and leave the discussions of Regina until tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Damn.” He spun, dipped her low, flashed a trademark smirk. “It was worth a shot.”

Effortlessly lifting her, he resumed their motions, and she was just about to remind him of how stubborn she could be – he wasn’t the only one that could hold out for a ridiculously long amount of time – when he explained.

“Regina escaped.”

It was only two words; just two measly words that meant nothing on their own. But when grouped together, they seemed to bring the entire world to a halt. The music continued to play and the couples continued to dance around them, but Emma came to a standstill, jerking Hook to a stop in the process, as she tried to make sense of what he’d said. “She… she what?”

“Escaped.” He took in her gaping expression. “As in, she got away.”

“I know what escaped means.” What she didn’t understand was how he could appear so casual about the fact that the one person that wanted Emma and her family dead more than anything else in the world was still wandering free and probably plotting against them as they spoke. Between Hook, Robin Hood, Mulan, and the rest of the woodland men, she had a hard time believing they were unable to catch one magic-less Evil Queen. “What happened?”

His attention shifted to follow the couples still moving around them. “A person doesn’t need to be able to control magic to escape a realm, love.” Then, his focus returned to her, lips tightening into a thin line. “If there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Which means…?”

“I thought there were none left after those that we used to get to Neverland, but apparently, Regina was in the possession of a few magic beans.”

“So not only did she escape, she’s not even in the same _realm_ anymore.”

Hook offered a grim smile. “Afraid not, love.”

Closing her eyes, Emma took a deep, steadying breath. She had mixed feelings on the revelation. On one hand, she was disappointed that Regina had managed to evade the justice she so richly deserved; but on the other hand… “Well, at least she’s out of our hair. She can’t very well hurt us if she’s in a completely different land.”

“That’s where things get a little messy.”

Of course it did.

Nothing could ever just be simple.

Without saying anything, Emma grasped Hook’s hand and made her way through the couples to the edge of the ballroom. He followed without question, apparently understanding that, with the way their discussion was heading, it wasn’t something they needed to continue in the middle of the dance floor. They moved past the outskirts of the crowd and onto the balcony before she stopped and faced Hook.

“Explain.”

He flashed a roguish smirk. “Gods, you’re a vision when you give orders. What I wouldn’t give to kiss you right now.”

“Hook…”

“We could go behind the terrace. No one would even see.”

“Hook…”

“Fine.” Although, the look in his eyes implied he wasn’t anywhere close to letting it drop for good. But then he blinked, the look receded a bit, and he answered. “Regina’s gone to a land called Oz.” Emma frowned, Hook nodding his agreement at her silent confusion. “Aye, I’ve journeyed farther than most, and even I’ve never heard of it.”

Her eyes lowered to the ground beside them, brows still pulled together in thought. Throughout her life, she’d heard tales of many lands, but like Hook, she’d never heard of any place named Oz. “She could’ve gone anywhere with those beans. Why would she choose that realm? What’s special about it?”

“I’ve no idea.” When he lifted a single shoulder in a half-shrug, she looked back to him, taking some comfort from the fact that he seemed to be as annoyed by not knowing as she was. “We’d been trailing her for almost four months when we finally began to catch up. For a pampered royal, she was surprisingly adept at evading us and covering her tracks. In the end, we cornered her in the far north. We all knew that, without her magic, she was defenseless, but none of us expected her to have any magical items with her, much less some bloody magic beans.”

But then again, had any of them really expected the Evil Queen to go down without a fight?

“As soon as we demanded her surrender, she tossed one. We were essentially trapped in the gorge she’d led us into, so the portal prevented us from getting to her. The last we heard was her saying she was going to Oz and to follow her if we dared.”

Fitting last words. _Challenging_ last words. And an unwanted weight settled in the pit of Emma’s stomach when she realized that, while she and her parents had won the battle, the war was still ongoing.

“Then she jumped, Robin and a few of his men following her soon after.”

Which only served to complicate things further. Because even if they could let go of the situation and leave Regina in the distant realm, they couldn’t very well leave Robin and his men stranded there. It was all such a mess, so convoluted, but the underlying issue remained. “That still doesn’t explain what she’s planning to do there.”

“She also made mention of someone named Zelena.” He shook his head at the question already forming in her mind. “Don’t look at me, love. I’ve no clue who she is or why Regina wants to find her, but I gather it’s not because she wants someone to gossip over tea with.”

The music continued to play in the background, but Emma regarded Hook in silence. After a while, he reached up to remove the eye patch he still wore, and at the reminder of the mask still adorning her own face, Emma began to undo the fastenings as she turned away and walked to the balustrade.

Once there, she leaned forward, resting on her elbows and toying with the mask in her hands. “What do you think about all this?”

She felt him come up behind her, felt the way the air shifted with his movements, could almost hear the way he pondered her question. “Considering Robin and his men are trapped in Oz, I’ve half a mind to go after them; the gods only know what this other realm is like. But at the same time, the thief’s more than capable of taking care of himself and had a few tricks up his sleeve that could help him find his own way home.”

It seemed better to not ask what kind of tricks he meant. “So, really, you don’t know what to do.” She didn’t bother phrasing it as a question.

“Not exactly, no.”

“Hm.”

Deep in thought, Emma fingered the glitter on the mask, the soft feathers, the delicate beading of the swan. It was a strange day, indeed, for Hook to not have any kind of plan. It was even stranger for her to feel as… listless as she did. Tired. Burned out. Usually, she would feel a burning energy to go, help, rescue those that had done the same for her. And she did. But at the same time, she felt a calming energy that wanted her to just breathe. Because, honestly, didn’t they deserve a chance to just rest?

When the mask was plucked from her hands, she looked over to see Hook casually leaning against the balustrade beside her. He examined the material similar to how she’d been doing, tracing the beading with the point of his hook. She watched his attention follow the progress of his hook until he met her eyes.

“So what next?”

The sharp point of his hook clinked against one of the larger beads, and she vaguely thought how the cool, strength of it differed from the soft feathers it brushed up against. “What do you mean?”

Hook gestured out to the glimmering strip of ocean just barely visible in the distance before motioning to the arching doorway and the ballroom full of people behind her. “It seems we have a choice to make.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘we’ now?”

“Only if you want it to be, love.” He flashed a grin that made her shake her head in exasperation and go weak at the knees all at the same time. “You asked my opinion; now, I want to know what you think.”

Emma hesitated.

“I think…”

Then she stopped completely.

Across the railing and the palace lawns and the town was the ocean. Emma stared out at the water and felt it call to a part of her, sing to her, beg her to return to it. It would be easy… the two of them could return to it, find a way to help Robin, and then, when everything was settled and finished, go sail its endless expanse forever.

But as strongly as the ocean beckoned her, the bonds of family called to her just as strongly.

Because behind her was a family, the only family she had left… and after returning, seeing, and experiencing the unconditional love they held for her that hadn’t faded despite all that she’d done, there was no way she could turn away from them again.

“I think…”

In the end, she was torn, pulled between two very different worlds.

So what to do?

What did she think?

With a deep breath, she glanced from the water to Hook to the sky in quick succession. Stars twinkled back at her, playfully happy and unaware of the problems of the world. And it was a welcome relief when a bit of their otherworldly peace seeped into her and chased away the listlessness.

“I think that it’s late, that we haven’t seen each other in six months, that the past couple years have been entirely too long and stressful, and that we should just say to hell with everything else and worry about the rest of the world tomorrow.”

She grinned, then, turning back to Hook.

“And I think that we should go back to my room and take a much deserved break.”

The corners of his mouth quirked in response to her statement, and he pulled her forward to fall against his chest. “I’m sensing ‘break’ has a double meaning here.” And in the long moment before he kissed her, he whispered against her mouth, charming smirk on his lips and spirited glint in those strikingly blue eyes. “I’ll make a pirate out of you yet.”


	25. A Bond and A Horizon

_“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Do not be afraid.”_

* * *

“When did you know he was the one?”

Emma and her mother sat on the bench, close enough to where she could smell the familiar rose-scented perfume, watching the two men walk around the far edge of the garden. It was the third time they’d made the same loop. Clearly, her father had a lot to say to the pirate. Emma could only hope it wasn’t anything too… fatherly. After all, Hook was almost three hundred years older than him.

“It was the first time he said he would always find me.” With a smile, her mother met her gaze. “He was upset because I’d just stolen from him while I was just excited to get away, but there was… something about that moment. The way he said it, maybe? Or the expression in his eyes when I looked back to him? I’m not sure exactly.” She turned back to watch her husband begin the loop again. “Looking back, though, it all started there.”

Slowly, Emma mirrored her mother’s actions and turned back to the rest of the garden. While the king and the pirate occupied one end with their hushed conversation, the other end was filled with intermittent but loud laughter. A particularly gleeful outburst drew her attention.

A young boy jumped out of the bushes.

A man clasped his chest in mock fright and fell to the ground.

Out of nowhere, hands clamped down on Emma’s shoulders. Instinct had the urge to fight welling up within her, but it melted away just as quickly once she looked up to see Ruby’s wide grin. “Did I scare you?”

“You always scare me, Rubes.”

The brunette released Emma and slipped around the end of the bench to sit beside her. “So what are we talking about this afternoon? Or are we just taking in the eye candy?”

“If that’s the case, Graham would need to be here. Unless you’ve given up on him and are going to start making eyes at Robin.” Emma gestured to the reunited father and son still playing in the bushes.

It had already been a couple weeks since Robin and his men had returned from the strange land called Oz. There hadn’t been any hint, no warning of their arrival. One day, they were discussing ways to the other realm to bring the men home; the next, there was a knock at the palace gates that revealed the missing thieves.

Roland had been ecstatic, to say the least. At the sight of his father, he’d ripped himself away from Ruby and jumped into the man’s waiting arms. Both Ruby and Emma had watched over the boy while Robin went with Hook on the search for Regina, but while the three of them had enjoyed their time together, nothing could really compare to the bond between a father and his son.

However, joyful reunions aside, their reappearance stirred numerous questions that needed answering.

Were they all alright? Where was Regina? Did they catch up to her? What happened in Oz? What was the realm like? Who was the mysterious Zelena? Did Regina find her? Why did she want to find her? Was there magic in Oz? Did Regina regain her magic? When did they get back? _How_ did they get back?

Unfortunately, most of their questions remained unanswered. The only explanation they’d received from Robin was succinct, satisfied only the most critical issue at hand, and was accompanied by an almost bitter expression none of them could quite place.

_“The details of what happened while we were there don’t matter. The only thing that’s important is that Regina is still in Oz. She succeeded in finding Zelena, but her magic is still bound. I managed to destroy the last of the magic beans before we were sent back, so unless they find another way to this realm, they’re trapped there.”_

A few days later, after giving him time to settle back into things, Hook had gone to Robin in private. But instead of getting more answers as he’d hoped, Robin had only said that yes, he’d caught up with Regina but that he preferred not to talk about what happened. The last thing he’d said on the matter before sending Hook away was that Emma was safe.

For now, at least.

Because Emma knew better than to underestimate Regina.

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick with my huntsman.” Still grinning, Ruby waved a hand towards the stables. “He’s over there with August getting the horses ready.”

If the plan was the still the same as it had been that morning at breakfast – who knew when Ruby was prone to changing her mind every other hour – they would all be saying goodbye the following morning. August, Graham, and Ruby had fit in wonderfully with the rest of the kingdom during their time there, but the castle wasn’t Tortuga and Tortuga was home. No matter how strong the affection between Emma and the three of them, she knew they didn’t belong anywhere except the pirate-filled port town.

“Are all your things packed and ready?”

“You’re joking, right?” Emma laughed at Ruby’s expression. “You know I always wait until the last minute to get anything done… there’s no use in changing now. If you’re not busy, I’ll need your help getting everything together.”

Translation – _I want to be able to spend some time just the two of us before I leave_.

It didn’t matter whether Ruby wanted to get together to gossip about the men in their lives, discuss the issue with Regina, or relive all the moments from the years spent growing up together. The only thing that mattered was that Emma would be there because Ruby was as much a sister to her as anyone ever could be. Gods, she was going to miss her.

“I think I would’ve been more worried if you were prepared.” Emma bumped her shoulder playfully, blinking away the annoying moisture in her eyes. “I’ll be there.”

“Oh, good.” The barmaid – if she would still be one when she returned to Tortuga – returned the shoulder bump. “So, anyway, what were we talking about?”

“Emma asked me when I knew her father was the one.”

“And?”

Emma listened in silence as her mother repeated the answer. She alternated between watching the two men round the last corner to begin yet another loop and watching Robin chase Roland around an apple tree. It wasn’t until the story came to a close that she turned to Ruby. “When did you know about Graham?”

“Easy – the first night we slept together.” As soon as the words were out, Ruby clapped a hand across her mouth and looked to Snow in horror. “I’m sorry! That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t be talking about things like that around you.”

Emma and her mother tried to listen to Ruby’s rambling apologies, but they couldn’t contain their laughter at her embarrassment and burst out laughing.

“What… what are you doing?” Ruby’s head whipped around as she angled herself to look at both of them better. “Are you _laughing_ at me?”

“I’m not some blushing schoolgirl, Ruby. There’s no need to put on false airs in my presence.”

Seeing her mother so at ease was just as unusual as seeing Ruby in shock. At what point did she loosen the oppressive strings that came with royalty? At what point did she relax enough to throw her head back and actually laugh? At what point did she realize that the best way to keep Emma close was to let her go and be free to make her own choices? And at the same… at what point did Emma come to understand just how much she loved her mother?

Theirs was a rocky road for sure. But just like the bond between a father and his son was strong, so was the one between a mother and her daughter. It was strong enough to withstand an arranged marriage and resentful runaway, strong enough to withstand eighteen years.

Overcome by… everything, Emma rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, and almost immediately, her mother’s hand came up to rest against her cheek. Not long after, Ruby joined them, leaning over to rest her head on Emma’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a while – Ruby’s head on Emma’s shoulder, Emma’s head on Snow’s shoulder, Snow’s hand on Emma’s cheek, and Emma’s hand grasping Ruby’s – three women connected to each other by something much stronger and much more powerful than a simple blood relation.

Emma didn’t know how much time had passed, only that Robin had taken Roland inside for the evening, when her mother breached the silence.

“We’ve both shared our story, sweetheart, now it’s your turn. When did you know Killian was the one?”

At that precise moment, as if he wasn’t fifty yards away but within clear earshot, Hook glanced at her. It was a brief look, but in the few seconds before her father realized who he was looking at and recaptured his attention, he flashed a charming smirk. And fifty yards might as well have been none with the way her heart tripped a quicker rhythm.

From that first fateful encounter in The Salty Dog Inn to him showing up to save her from Regina to his most recent reappearance at the ball, he’d always had that instantaneous effect on her. It was likely he always would.

Her father was frowning, gesturing a little too sharply as he spoke, but when they rounded a corner, Hook still managed to peek at her one last time. And that time, she was ready. Ignoring the way she could literally feel her mother and Ruby’s perceptive grins, Emma beamed at Hook across the distance and saw him wink in response.

“I think it was when I first saw him.”

She thought about that timeless moment – the moment his blue eyes met her hazel ones across a burnished bar, the moment before they’d even spoken to each other – and smiled again.

“I think I knew it all along.”

* * *

A light spray of water kicked up by the wind landed on her face, the salty flavor making her taste buds tingle when her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She didn’t even bother wiping away the moisture, though, just let the water evaporate in the gusting wind and warm sunshine.

It had been spring when they’d left.

Blossoms had covered the mountain laurel that lined the palace lawns. The blooms’ sweet fragrance had filled the air that last afternoon before their departure, the vivid shades of pink, purple, and white almost obscuring the bright green leaves that signaled new, fresh growth. She’d picnicked with her parents in the shade of those trees, talking of everything and nothing, letting the dappled sunshine work its way through the foliage.

It was late summer now.

Back at the palace, her parents would be busy organizing the mid-year festival. Tables and chairs would be set up under the now bloomless trees, but the lack of color on the branches would be made up for in the brightly hued floral centerpieces. The entire kingdom would be invited, and while those that lived too far away wouldn’t attend, the lawn would still be filled to the brim with everyone else. There would be music and dancing, laughter and fun, and after the sun had set, a spectacular firework show would end the festivities with a literal bang.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the world, Emma and Hook and the crew of the Jolly Roger sailed towards an endless horizon.

Blue sky. Blue sea.

It was home.

That wasn’t to say that her parents’ castle wasn’t also home, though. The palace would always be her original home, but the shining walls and tiled floors and overall elegance just weren’t the home that made her smile, made her feel at peace. Not like the weathered wood of the Jolly Roger.

In the end, they’d tried.

For six months, Emma was able to experience what it took to be an actual princess, all of the duties and responsibilities. For almost six months more, Emma and Hook were both able to experience what their lives would be like if they remained. But both of them had spent too much time on the water to be content with anything less. The world called to their restless, roaming spirits. And thankfully, her parents had understood.

They still visited. The plan was to return once a month and spend a few days catching up, but life tended to get in the way – Emma called it treasure and adventure; Hook called it fun – and made the time stretch a little longer than they sometimes liked. Still, they made it a point to visit as often as they could. Eighteen years of no contact with her parents was eighteen years too long and not something she wanted to continue.

They also visited Tortuga whenever they were in the vicinity. August, Ruby, and Graham had returned to The Salty Dog Inn and a half-frantic, half-furious Geppetto where they picked up life right where they’d left off. August and Ruby continued to manage the inn, although Ruby had given up working the bar at Graham’s insistence, while Graham still travelled to nearby towns offering his unique set of services. He would be taking on a more established life with Ruby soon, though. They were to be married in a couple months.

Emma stared out over the water.

It stretched out as far as the eye could see until it blended indistinctly into the sky, an eternal blue that was almost the same exact color as Hook’s eyes only broken by the occasional white cap of a wave. And at the thought of the pirate, she blinked and focused on her more immediate surroundings.

She stood on the upper deck, railing smooth under her hands and well-worn planks warm beneath her bare feet. The constant noise of the Jolly Roger sailing through the sea was a comforting backdrop to the hum of activity aboard the ship – the sound of crewmembers going about their daily activities on the deck below, the sails billowing overhead in the wind, and the slight creak of the helm as Hook navigated them to some distant location only he knew of.

Mullins was retying a knot down below – he always had been the best at it, not to mention the most patient teacher considering she had yet to get the hang of some of the more complicated knots – when an argument broke out. With a faint smile, she added the two crewmembers fighting over who could handle their rum better and Hook’s annoyed yelling for them to get back to work to the normal sounds that came with life on the open sea.

They were such simple things, such everyday things – a quarrel among pirates; a ship sluicing through water; a flask of rum in her hand and a short sword at her side; a captain reaching out to sneak an arm around her waist – and yet, it was the unassuming things that sometimes meant the most.

In the end, it was funny how time stood still in moments that looked suspiciously like ordinary life.

“What’s got you so deep in thought, love?”

Lips pressing a gentle kiss to her temple inspired her to face the captain that had come up beside her. “Nothing much.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

When Hook gave her a disbelieving look, she smiled. “Are you commanding me to tell you, Captain?”

His signature smirk tugged at his mouth as he abandoned the wheel, pulling her fully against his chest and burying his face in the crook of her neck with a growl. “I love it when you call me that.”

“You love it when I call you anything.”

“I have to say, bastard’s not my favorite term.” The lips working softly up her neck contrasted with his rough stubble and made her shiver. “Or ass.” At the same time, the fingers inching beneath the hem of her blouse to rub against her hip made it hard to think.

“In my defense, I wouldn’t have said that if you weren’t being one. You can’t expect me to be happy after you hang me upside down.”

“We were practicing swordplay.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if that was all the explanation required to wipe the slate clean. Needless to say, it wasn’t. Even still, he tried to gloss over the unsatisfactory answer with charm and seduction instead.

However, Emma was not so weak willed as to be distracted by the teeth nibbling at her earlobe. Not at all. “So that gives you the… ah… right to use the rigging to string me up when I… gods, Hook… when I make a wrong move?” Apparently, she was more susceptible to his tongue tracing the outside of her ear.

“You’re technique has regressed into something that can only be described as shoddy, at best. All those years of training gone to waste… so disappointing. I had to think of some way to encourage you to try harder.” He paused, drew away from her just a bit. “Granted, the view didn’t hurt. We should make it a rule that you can only practice while wearing either skirts or a loose blouse.”

“You wish.”

Hook chuckled, lips returning to trace the line of her jaw. “It was convenient that the crew wasn’t around to see, don’t you think?”

“Thank the gods you sent them into town.” Then realization struck and she fell still. The only thing that continued to move was her blouse, lifting as his fingers traced a winding pattern ever farther up her side. “Convenience, my ass… you planned the whole thing, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“So _that’s_ how it’s going to be, then.” Two could play at that game.

But then his hand flattened against her skin, the curve of the hook pressed to the back of her head, and his lips captured her own in a searing kiss… and as his low groan rumbled through her mouth, she thought how the game could wait until another day. There were more important things to do right then, anyway. Things like winding her arms around his neck or tilting her head to deepen the kiss or grasping a fistful of his hair.

Emma stepped back until the side of the ship pressed against her lower back. Without breaking contact, she slipped up onto the edge. Hook immediately filled the vacant spot, moving between her legs to press against her in a completely different fashion. One arm looped behind her to hold her close while his hand tangled with her hair and pulled on the strands. She let her head fall back with a gasp, consumed by the sensations as he ravaged the expanse of skin her neck provided before returning to her lips.

Right then, nothing else mattered.

Because it had become the easiest thing in the world, giving in to Hook.

Suddenly, a loud whistle sounded from below followed by a few catcalls. It took a little while for reality to set it, but when it did, she reluctantly opened her eyes and pulled away. They stared at each other in the aftermath, foreheads pressed together, breaths no more than pants in the little space between them.

“The crew’s watching.”

“Let them watch.” He ground the words out, rotating his hips against hers.

The contact stole her breath, what little of it remained, and left her struggling to find words. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Don’t I?” She’d just dredged up the capacity to chastise him when he kissed his name from her lips. “Perhaps you’d like to test that theory.”

Hook loved her, she knew that. But she also knew how much he loved a challenge, which meant no, she didn’t want to test that theory… or anything closely related to that theory… basically nothing involving sex in public. Though, on second thought, that was a complete lie considering how many times they’d nearly been caught in compromising positions. She’d never outright admit it to him, but the risk of being found only heightened the pleasure.

But since they were in the middle of the ocean with no other options… “I’d rather not, but I _can_ think of a more private location where this could continue.”

This time it was Hook that pulled back. “I like the way you think, love.” And when he smirked and led her towards their cabin, she couldn’t help but grin and follow.

* * *

The next morning dawned warm and clear, wispy clouds highlighting the sunrise. Still curled on her side in the empty bed, Emma watched the scene through the windows. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to. She doubted she’d ever get enough of it.

With a satisfied groan, she stretched, buried her face in the pillow to inhale the scent that was all theirs, and finally dragged herself out of bed. She dressed quickly in customary trousers and top – there would be no more skirts after Hook’s comment the day before – before exiting the cabin. It wasn’t extremely early, so the fact that the deck was empty save for herself and Hook above her was unusual.

But when she stepped out and looked up to the helm, there was no sign of Hook either.

Confused, she made her way up the stairs to the quarterdeck only to see Hook standing at the ship’s stern. His back was to her, head lowered, but she could just make out the way he fingered the arching line of his hook around his body. With a gentle smile, she watched him look up and out over the water.

“I hope you’re not getting ready to do what I think you are.” If he was surprised by her presence, she couldn’t tell.

Slowly, he found her eyes over his shoulder. “And what would that be?” Emma looked pointedly from his hook to the water. But Hook ignored her, and she heard the quiet click of the appendage from across the deck. He stared down at the metal in his hand, expression falling somewhere between reverence and acceptance. “I don’t need this, Emma. Not anymore.”

She knew he didn’t. She took the last few steps forward and pulled the curved metal from him. Turning it over in her hands, she observed its clean lines, the way it reflected and refracted the morning light. Sometime during their journey, he’d grown past it. Where before it had been a crutch, a symbol, a constant reminder of the painful past and the revenge he sought, now it was just what it was – a hook.

So, no, he didn’t need it.

But maybe she did.

Because it was him. It was what made him Hook, made him Killian, made him the person she’d fallen in love with.

He looked to her in surprise when she grasped his left arm and clicked the hook back into place. “This isn’t your past anymore. Now, it’s just you. It’s whatever you want it to be.” And as she smiled up at him, the shock edged away. “You’ll always be Killian Jones to me… but what would the world be like without Captain Hook?”

They stood there in relative silence as he regarded her with a kind of fierce tenderness before running his hand over the reattached appendage. “Aye, I suppose you’re right.” Then, with a quick kiss to her forehead, he spun around and returned to the helm.

The wheel whirled, turning them eastward. And between the vivacity that had returned to his body and the roguish grin she spotted on his face when she came up beside him, he looked the definition of a pirate. He inhaled deeply, let it out in a contented exhale.

“So where are we headed today, Captain?”

“There.” Hook pointed towards the rising sun.

“What’s in that direction?”

Turning to face her, he leaned against the helm and shrugged. “No idea. I’ve looked for a map of the northeastern sea but haven’t been able to find anything.” Then, he grinned at her confused look. “What do you say, love… are you up for an adventure into uncharted territories?”

The words reminded Emma of something she’d heard from one of the villagers as a child. The woman was older and claimed to be from another realm, one without magic. Whether or not that was true, Emma never knew; what she did know was that the woman put on some of the most thrilling plays in all the kingdoms.

It was a line from one in particular that she murmured. “A course more promising than a wild dedication of yourselves to unpathed waters, undreamed shores.”

“What was that?” Hook stared at her curiously, not having heard what she’d said.

“It was nothing.”

A single eyebrow lifted. “Mmhmm.” Clearly, he wasn’t convinced but seemed willing to let it drop. “Speaking of nothing… you never answered my question last night.”

“What?” In the flurry of strewn clothes, breathless kisses, and overall passion that made up the night before, she couldn’t really recall much else.

“When we were up here yesterday afternoon, what were you thinking?”

The memories were slow to come, but she eventually remembered the peace she’d felt as she took in her life. However, while she felt peace, she also felt worry. There were still so many things left unresolved. Regina was still out there somewhere, Robin remained elusive about his time in Oz whenever they met, and there was a glimmer of Neverland – of _otherness_ – in both her and Hook’s eyes; not to mention what would happen when the time came for her to ascend the throne.

But it was impossible to know what the future held.

And anyway, there was so much more than those uncertainties.

Thinking about all the positive parts of her life made Emma’s heart burn. Her mother inspired hope, her father inspired courage, Ruby inspired spirit, August inspired strength, Graham inspired determination, the crew inspired adventure, and Hook… Hook inspired love. Yes, the good definitely outweighed the bad.

In the distance, over the open water, she could see the sunrise, the new day, the infinite tomorrow.

She still wasn’t sure if she believed in a true happy ending. How could something like that be real when there were still so many problems in the world? There would always be the possibility of reuniting with Regina and the mysterious Zelena. And if they weren’t an issue, who knew if some other force would show up to cause trouble for the Enchanted Forest. But even if happily ever after was a bit out of reach, Hook had said it best in the courtyard after they’d won both their freedom and Emma’s life.

_“I don’t think I believe in it either, now that you mention it… but sometimes we can get close enough to where it’s hard to tell the difference.”_

She met Hook’s eyes with a smile as she curled her arms around his waist. “I really wasn’t thinking much. Just that I’m…” There was only one word for it. “Happy.”

The cool metal of his hook brushed a lock of hair behind her ear while his hand cupped her cheek. “Good.” He kissed her once, twice, before pulling back. “I am too.”

Emma took in everything about him – windswept hair, glinting hook, charming smirk, gleam in his strikingly blue eyes, the innuendo that would no doubt fall from his lips later – and was content. This was her life. This was what she wanted. This moment, the one she was sharing with Hook right then, was what her heart had always been searching for.

What they had was worth the struggle, worth defending, worth fighting for, and she’d be damned if anyone tried to take that away from them.

So let the battles come.

She was ready.

 _They_ were ready.

They would _always_ be ready.

Because right then, with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face and the sea in every direction and Hook smirking at her, holding her, kissing her, Emma’s life was about as close to happily ever after as she could ever imagine it to be.

And that was all that really mattered.

_“You give me miles and miles of mountains, and I’ll ask for the sea.”_


End file.
